JANE FONDA: OPENING UP AND SPEAKING OUT
by David Lefkowitz
(This article was first published in Long Island Woman magazine, March 2020.)
Does Jane Fonda contradict herself? Very well, she contradicts herself. After all, this is an actress who began her career with a Tony-winning turn on Broadway but then gained stardom playing hookers and babes in such films as Walk on the Wild Side, Circle of Love, and Barbarella. This is also a woman who championed exercise as the best way to stave off aging but later succumbed to Hollywood’s plastic-surgery siren call. A woman who bought into her famous dad’s patriotic values and yet committed diplomatic acts that bordered on treason. A woman who became a feminist symbol but was frequently and willingly caught in the spell of powerful men. Oh, and a woman who renounced the trappings of L.A. and materialism only to marry billionaire mogul Ted Turner.
She is also a woman who has made a career—in the notoriously amnesic entertainment industry—last six full decades and counting. If you didn’t know Jane Fonda as the vivacious newlywed smooching Robert Redford in Barefoot in the Park, you knew her as the scarified prostitute in Klute. You cried when she interacted with papa Henry in On Golden Pond and laughed watching her gain office empowerment in 9 to 5. And if you missed her arc on The Newsroom, surely you’ve seen her camaraderie with Lily Tomlin on Grace and Frankie, now airing its sixth season (and shooting its seventh) on Netflix.
Shapeshifting plus longevity equals an endlessly fascinating personality, one that Fonda herself delved into in her 2005 memoir, My Life So Far and that HBO recounted in its recent documentary, Jane Fonda: A Life in Five Acts. Having reached the age of 82, the actress is readier than ever to offer frank assessments of her life choices, career cul-de-sacs, and political stances. She even tours occasionally, doing live Q&A/life-overview concerts (though a December 2019 stint at Westbury’s NYCB Theater was canceled without explanation). Fonda has taken hits, sometimes deservedly, for thoughtless public gestures, but her five arrests for protesting climate change attest to a decades-long yearning to make her celebrity voice count for something.
To be sure, she knows well the double standard often placed on women who speak their minds versus men who do the same. As she notes in her book, when husband Turner opined, the press would call him passionate. When she’d do it, she was branded as “strident and shrill”—as evidenced by a Life Magazine article about her that was titled “Non-Stop Activist: Nag, Nag Nag.” Of course, to modern eyes, that sounds more like a badge of honor than a knock.
“I’m an open-upper,” she told Long Island Woman in our late autumn conversation. “I’ve done a lot of the public speaking by now, and it tends to be a lot of fun—often revelatory. I think it’s fair to say the audiences always leave having had a very good time and maybe having learned a few things. I try to be helpful; I think being honest is being helpful. I mean, why talk about yourself if you’re not gonna open up and be real? All of us women have had the same struggle, the same challenges—and many men, as well. So you have to tell the truth.”
Even those who see hypocrisy in Fonda’s actions—be it promoting peace by riding a North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun or having work done despite being the icon of video exercise—will likely be disarmed by her frankness and confessional style. She has long apologized for the horrid optics of the Hanoi Jane photo, and in 2018 she told Vanity Fair that, like it or not, plastic surgery gave her “a decade more to survive in the business” of Hollywood. To this, she added, “I have a fake hip and a fake knee and a fake thumb. Just call me the Bionic Woman!”
Asked by Long Island Woman what she has learned about herself by doing the documentary and speaking tours, Fonda deadpans, “Nothing. When I wrote my memoirs, that was where I really uncovered things about myself that I hadn’t realized. I had turned 60 and was looking at my last act, so I spent time studying the past.”
In directing her film about Fonda, Susan Lacy chose to partition the actress’s life into five acts—four of them marked by her being under the sway of a powerful man, be it father Henry Fonda or ex-husbands Roger Vadim, Tom Hayden, and mogul Ted Turner. But now that she’s in her most independent era, Fonda chafes at the movie’s structure. “Personally, I divide my life into three acts: The first 30 years, the second 30 years, and the last 30 years. I couldn’t know how to live my last 30 years if I hadn’t known what I had done in the first 30 years. So I spent five years researching my life, my parents, my grandparents. And that process taught me a great deal. So when it came time to do the documentary or the speaking, no, I’m not learning during that time. I’m teaching.”
As the movie makes clear, for all her manning of political and feminist barricades, Fonda often defined herself in terms of powerful men: pleasing an unreachable dad, fitting into Vadim’s hedonistic lifestyle, pouring her time and money into Hayden’s campaigning, and being swept off her feet by Turner’s bonhomie. Yet whether by Lacy’s conception or Fonda’s own, the last segment is about the actress alone. “Because of the work I did to write my book,” Fonda says, “I certainly understand myself better at this age. I have had two other important relationships [since her divorce from Turner], but I realize that’s no longer for me. I have a whole lot more time to devote to other things now that I’m not in a relationship and know that I never will be in a relationship again with a man.
I have lots of relationships but they’re not romantic, they’re friendships.”
No question, Fonda is entitled to have complicated feelings about the male-female dynamic. Her mother, a victim of sexual abuse, committed suicide when Fonda was 12, and the actress herself experienced both childhood sexual trauma and rape as an adult. For her, the “Woke” era is long overdue, and she offers a snarky laugh when I suggest that the era has become so sensitive to harassment, men must be super-careful in their interactions with women. “Super-careful?,” she chortles, “No, men just have to behave like decent human beings. If that means being super-careful, that’s very interesting because it says a lot about men. Hopefully, the `Time’s Up’/`Me Too’ movement will help men regain their humanity and realize that they’re not entitled to treat women however they want. More women are speaking up—which helps other people to realize how pervasive sexism—including violent sexual assault—is, and that’s all to the good.
We are human beings together on this planet, and we have to respect each other. The movements are a good, important step forward in the journey to that goal.”
It is this idea of looking backward and inward, of figuring out how you arrived where you are and how best to get wherever you might be going, that seems to be most crucial to Fonda’s psyche these days. As she told NPR, “You don’t become wise by having a lot of experience; you become wise by reflecting deeply on the experiences that you’ve had.”
Put another way, having newly embraced Christianity and her own efficacy as a woman, Fonda ends her 2005 autobiography by owning and appreciating, “Every earned line on my skin and scar on my heart . . . I can affirm every imperfection as my share of our mutual, flawed, fragile humanity.”
Those who have seen the HBO documentary know that the actress is not above giving herself the occasional pep talk, addressing herself by her last name and dispensing no-nonsense self-recommendations. It is what she does when I ask what she would tell her 20-year-old self if given the opportunity to go back and advise young Jane. “It’s gonna be a tough road, Fonda!” comes the reply. “Keep your head up and your eyes open, and know that if you are intentional about getting better and braver and stronger, then you can. So don’t give up.”
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David Lefkowitz hosts the Dave’s Gone By show Saturday mornings live on Facebook (facebook.com/radiodavelefkowitz). He is co-author of musical comedy Shalom Dammit!
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NOTES & BACKSTORY:
This one was a grind, not because Fonda was in any way difficult, but I had only 10 minutes with her on the telephone, of which the first minute was introduction and two other minutes were fairly specific about her upcoming gig at Westbury—which was canceled a week later. In other words, my job was to spin 1500 words out of seven minutes. Eat your heart out, Cameron Crowe.