DIANE LANE HITS HER STRIDE With grace, guts, and poise, the screen veteran triumphs in HBO’s “Cinema Verite”

Diane Lane’s rise to household name has been decades in the making. She toured internationally with the famed La MaMa theater company as a child, and at 13 she starred in A Little Romance alongside Laurence Olivier, which landed her on the cover of Time Magazine in 1979. She appeared in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Outsiders and Rumble Fish, both in 1983, and on TV’s Western epic, “Lonesome Dove,” in 1989, which earned her an Emmy nod. Her Oscar nomination for her dark and sultry performance in 2002’s Unfaithful, which placed her front and center, was a pinnacle reached through her slow and steady burn that’s now propelling her into the realm of matriarch.

In HBO’s “Cinema Verite,” premiering April 23rd, Lane costars as Pat Loud, mother of five, in the true story of the making of “An American Family,” the 1973 documentary that aired on PBS and marked the birth of reality television. With seasoned gravitas, the screen veteran embodies the reluctantly iconic homemaker who’s won over by producer Craig Gilbert (James Gandolfini) with his pitch to bring cameras into her home and create an inside look at the typical American family for the viewing public. It’s almost instantaneous that the Louds’ veneer of “Brady Bunch” innocence begins to crack. Pat flies from Santa Barbara to New York City to visit her eldest son, Lance (Thomas Dekker), and as film rolls she quickly learns that he’s gay. The entire endeavor then turns catastrophic as Pat’s husband, Bill (Tim Robbins), turns out to be sleeping with other women. With divorce stigmatized and acceptance of homosexuality nearly unheard of at the time, the 12 episodes aired as a tragic story of a shattered family and the parents who couldn’t keep it together. Lane is spot-on as the charismatic, beautiful, and unwitting bringer of national infamy to herself and her loved ones, and as a mother faced with challenges and decisions that were judged by an entire nation.

Lane was born into the business. Her father was Burt Lane, who co-founded the Cassavetes-Lane Drama Workshop in Manhattan with John Cassavetes, and her mother is Colleen Farrington, a model and nightclub singer. “We worked together on ‘Grace & Glory’ (1998), a Hallmark film, and I thought she was terrific,” says Gena Rowlands, film legend and wife of the late Cassavetes. “I liked her personality very much. I was also pleased that she was so good because she is the daughter of a friend that I went to school with, and it’s so nice to see the next generation coming up with something, too. And she really does have it. Who ever knows where that comes from? Is it genetic? Her dad was very talented. Wherever she got it, she grabbed it!”

It was around the turn of the millennium that Lane truly began her ascension to stardom. Her steamy on-screen affair with Viggo Mortensen in A Walk on the Moon (1999) offered an alluring commentary on the sexual revolution of the late ’60s, while making her the envy of women across the country. Her supporting role opposite Mark Wahlberg in The Perfect Storm (2000) showcased her expertise in empathy, hope, and loss. After the searing success of her turn in Unfaithful with Richard Gere, she took a Golden Globe-nominated trip to the lighter side in Under the Tuscan Sun (2003) as an American divorcee at the end of her rope, who bought a villa in Tuscany and found the love she sought in ways she hadn’t imagined. And in last year’s biopic, Secretariat, Lane played Penny Chenery, the housewife and mother who took over her father’s stable with no prior experience and found herself breeding and racing a chestnut colt who turned out to be one of the top Thoroughbreds of all time.

Lane has performed in a total of four Coppola movies, rounding out her roles with The Cotton Club (1984) and Jack (1996). She appeared in Chaplin (1992) with Robert Downey Jr., shot ‘em up good as Sylvester Stallone’s right-hand woman in Judge Dredd (1995), and looked after five orphaned boys in the 1982 comedy, Six Pack, with Kenny Rogers and an 11-year-old Anthony Michael Hall. She was in Hard Ball (2001) with Keanu Reeves, Must Love Dogs (2005) with John Cusack, Hollywoodland (2006) with Adrien Brody and Ben Affleck, and Nights in Rodanthe (2008) with Gere once again. A stage actress in her youth, she appeared  on Broadway, most notably in “The Cherry Orchard” with Meryl Streep in 1977. And in true matriarch fashion, Lane is gearing up to play Martha Kent, Superman’s mom, in Zack Snyder’s Superman: Man of Steel. Lane has a daughter, Eleanor, and is married to fellow screen star, Josh Brolin.

We meet with the quick-witted and utterly personable actress in a quiet, little Beverly Hills cafe.

Venice: You were very young when “An American Family” first aired. Do you remember Pat Loud from back then?

Diane Lane: I didn’t know about her because I was eight years old when it came out. But being a child of divorce and being aware of comparing oneself to other families, that was something that I grew up with in Manhattan, with Dad driving a cab in that era of my life. I was going between parents and I was working at La MaMa [Experimental Theatre], right there when Lance Loud was next door admiring other shows. [There were] all the conversations and the zeitgeist and the controversy and the finger-wagging and the shaming that would go on about the specter of broken families and families torn asunder, and that there must be some nefarious characters or some failure. I remember my parents had this book, I’m OK, You’re OK (1969). The terminology, the verb that I remember from this was the word “cope.” So I decided one day that I couldn’t cope and I wrote a note stating that and I ran away. I was seven and I got on the crosstown bus and then I took the uptown bus and somehow I managed [to get to] the front door of my dad’s really good friend. Of course, she immediately called Dad and he showed up. And I was like, “Can I come live with you for a while?” Because I wanted to shop around a little in terms of families. [laughs] I think it might have come from this unfair criticism and comparison that was going on in the media, the stigma of divorce. I’m just saying that it was a moment in time, and it’s wonderful that HBO is in the right place to archivally reference it and how we got here, with what we call reality TV, which — don’t get me started. It’s an oxymoron.

The kind of dynamic depicted in “American Family” was new for television, which caused the Louds to be judged very harshly.

Viciously, in Lance’s case. I can’t imagine the chagrin Pat must have felt from putting her family through this, unwittingly. There’s no way to rehearse or prepare for that kind of onslaught of unforgiveness. You become a stepping stone for somebody else’s superiority. Ugh, the worst. And the poor kids. But it’s interesting because it galvanized them. It brought them closer together. It actually wound up having the effect that she wanted, even though it wasn’t in time for the cameras. It didn’t time out in terms of “performance” — but even better, you know?

What was your take on the original show when you first saw it?

For me, watching film, there’s something about non-fiction that is so gratifying. It’s such a relief. The viewing of that footage was the most delicious thing that my eyes have ever taken in, because they had no guile! Their version of guile was so naive. And after the divorce and the criticisms and the editing of the show and the sense of betrayal, then the way it was marketed, and then there was the way it was received. It was like seven steps of, “You’ve got to be kidding!” It was a left hook, an uppercut, a throw-down, a kidney punch, an elbow. This family has been through it! When Pat says on the Dick Cavett show, “I actually take issue with sophistication. I think naivete is a commodity worth reassessing.” I’m not saying it the way she did, but it’s true! Innocence is something you value with the loss of it. It’s just the nature of the beast. And it really is a beast, this bringing cameras into people’s lives. Because it does change the people. How can it not? I’m not speaking to you the way I would speak to you if there wasn’t a recorder running, you know? We can pretend that it’s not. [laughs]

It’s like the uncertainty principle. With the act of observing you’re changing the circumstance.

The Heisenberg principle. Certainly with human beings it’s been proven.

The film shows husband-and-wife film crew, Alan and Susan Raymond (Patrick Fugit and Shanna Collins), going on record stating that they questioned Craig Gilbert’s practices. What’s your take?

I like the fact that I saw both sides of the argument. I saw Craig Gilbert’s point of view and I didn’t necessarily disagree, because he actually had a more modern sensibility. But at that time it was rushing it. We hadn’t gotten there yet. “Keep filming no matter what!” He’s still around, and I have a feeling he’ll be sharing that with us after seeing the film. All the players are still around, except Lance. And the fact that 300-something hours got burned. They burned it; they didn’t want to store it anymore. Can you imagine getting ahold of that footage now and re-editing it? Have you ever seen that thing on the internet with The Shining, where they make it look like a happy movie? We could do that with these people. It’s all about the thrust of the editing. This is the indictment that I see: It’s a machine that feeds itself. It’s a conveyor belt and they want us on it. So if they can wag the dog, if they can create the appetite, then they can manipulate feeding you. With the controversy, by starting the show with the divorce, now you’ve got a frame of reference. The demise, with the shattered font of the logo of the show, and they really made the thing a flashback of, “Aw! This family couldn’t hold up under the pressure. What caused that?” And we do see a little bickering and parental disagreements, and we do see disappointment, and we do see struggles. I think we see Pat being a wonderful mother. The way you have to don so many hats in a day. Pat’s book was like my bible. It was the greatest reference, because she was circumspect and saw how she could and would have done things differently, perhaps. But there was no way to know; this was uncharted waters. She did warn everybody, “Don’t do this! We did it and here’s what happened.” She was so beautiful and so iconic and so poised with a capital “P.”

What do you think of reality television today?

I find it disturbing and I feel like I’m contributing to a person offering up something of themselves that deserves better. And I feel like I’m committing an act of harm. If the Neilsen Ratings are tapping into my TV, I don’t want them to get a “plus” sign from me. [laughs] But it’s also kind of like a school play. You let go of any modicum of hope of professionalism, and you go into cute-land. Remember that great scene from Parenthood where you hear the roller-coaster sounds and it’s all going to hell in a handbasket? The kids are running around and one parent is cringing and the other one thinks this is the funniest, greatest thing ever.

The directors, Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini, were the helmers behind American Splendor (2003) with Paul Giamatti. They took on another huge challenge with “Cinema Verite.”

My hat is off to them. I love working for a duo. And to be married and doing that? I don’t know how they do it. It’s tough enough to be working and it’s tough enough to be married. If you combine the two, I don’t know what you’ve got. [laughs] Wow! And they pull it off; they really do. It was lovely because I thought there was more brain matter to work it out with, a tighter sieve to catch the drippings. Two minds are better than one!

Tim Robbins does a great job.

Did he nail that or what? I learned from him. He asks for as many takes as he needs to be proud of his work. I like that about him; I respect that a lot. I’m grateful to him because he has high standards. And of course, James [Gandolfini] is amazing. I still can’t call him “Jim.” He’s so charismatic. He’s got enough for three people. Turn the camera on him and you’ve already got so much going on before there’s any dialogue. You’re a little nervous, you want everything to turn out okay, and he’s just waiting to order a cup of coffee.

Thomas Dekker really channels Lance.

Isn’t that amazing? When I first met him, when we all got together and read at table and out came his speaking voice. And he was speaking “Lance.” It was a language, it was an accent, it was a timbre. He had it all! [After the reading] he came up to me and he said, “I just want to say that when we were doing the read-through, I could hear Pat.” And I was like, “You can’t say that to me. I was feeling that way about you!” He was so very generous and gracious. I was like, “You beat me to the punch. I’m Mom; I’m supposed to patyou on the back.” He’s got a bright future ahead of him. He can do whatever he puts his mind to. He’s directing already, by the way!

Let’s talk about your beginnings. You made your first film when you were 13.

I had done A Little Romance, which was great fun and tremendously challenging and otherworldly, but when I came home I was so grateful. I was like, “Glad that’s done! Now I can get back to my life.” But, “No, no. Youhave to get an agent. This is a career.” I was like, “Excuse me? I don’t think so!” I had a vision of my life and this wasn’t it. But it was like the mafia and an offer you couldn’t refuse. I wanted to go to Stanford or whatever the fantasy was. But my dad had groomed me for this. He literally said to me, “Oh, I didn’t give you a middle name so that your name would be larger on the marquee.” Do you remember when the marquees were like that? We’re talking the ’50s and if your name was a little bit shorter they’d give you a bigger font. Different size names on the marquee! That was his thinking, so I personally don’t know that I had any choice in the matter! [laughs]

As a little kid, you were acting at the La MaMa Experimental Theatre.

The traveling circus. [laughs] Avant-garde theater in the early ’70s, man. It was intense; it was great. I’ve got stories up the wazoo.

Your dad was friends with John Cassavetes and you ended up working with Gena Rowlands later on in “Grace & Glory.”

She’s such a mensch. She’s a national treasure. I’ve certainly exploited whatever six degrees of separation I have with her, mercilessly, in the press. It’s just like, “I could have been related to her!” [laughs] Not that I’m throwing my mother under the train — I love my mom — but John stole Gena from my dad.

So it was your dad who pushed you toward theater?

It was sort of an inside joke, really. A friend cut out an audition from The Village Voice. It was about as big as a large stamp and it said, “Seven to ten year olds, come down and audition for this part of Medea’s child.” It was a joke; it was an I.O.U. for a Christmas present left under the tree. My dad grabbed it and said, “Oh! Do you want to be in a play?” And the line literally was, “Of course I love to play, Dad. You know that.” Because I didn’t know what a play was. [laughs] And he ran with that. So I auditioned and I got it.

Working with Laurence Olivier in A Little Romance must have been quite an experience.

I knew about him, my dad made sure. We had three channels then and WNET was the fourth channel. Occasionally they would show Hamlet or Henry V, so I would see Laurence Olivier. I had seen Rebecca and I had seen Wuthering Heights and his Othello. So I had some ear and awareness of perceived greatness and accomplishment and the fact that he had such respect from so many people. I was in awe. And then when I worked with him and he said, “Call me Larry.” I was like, “I don’t think so! I’ll try. I might just say, ‘Um, excuse me!’ and never have to say your name.” Because it just seemed like I would be shot if I called him Larry. That didn’t make sense.

You had a familial relationship with him in the film.

It’s interesting; there was a theme there. I always go for older men. I love the wisdom and the generosity of spirit — when they’re in the mood. Because the wrath is part and parcel of having been around awhile and you don’t suffer fools and you don’t have a lot of time to waste. But he was very gracious with me and extremely sweet. He hadn’t done an interview in I don’t know how many years at that point, and he was doing a big one for the New York Times. We were in Verona and I remember my dad getting him at the bar and they sat together, tete-a-tete, for like an hour. And Dad was like, [whispers] “He’s rehearsing for the interview! I know, and it’s okay.” [laughs] It was so cute. I love the real meaning of things that people would never get. My dad always had a gift for seeing behind the curtain.

You made four films with Francis Ford Coppola. What was it like working with him?

He was lovely. He really did become the paternal feeling that everybody had about him. It makes sense that he became a vintner; it’s the perfect metaphor for his attention to detail and long-term vision. I’ve never had somebody put as much wind in the sails of actors. I feel like I could do anything for Francis. I don’t know why, but it’s true. He gave that to all of us. We had a sense of epic. There was one time when we did a blue screen, which was very new. He got this room and we filmed the whole movie on a blue screen and watched it. This was our take at it; he didn’t direct us. He was like, “Show me what you think it would look like.” I will only speak for myself, but realizing how much I needed a director, he had my ear after that!

“Lonesome Dove” got you a lot of attention.

That was lovely. I had no idea about what it is to play a piece of revered literature and bringing it to the screen. It’s very sacred territory. I knew when I was getting off the plane and being delivered from the airport to the set. I was very nervous. They had already started filming and the teamster was grilling me on my character and how I was going to play it. “You’re going to have a little scar right there. It’s on the left side, not the right side. Remember that!” And to this day, Bobby D. [Robert Duvall] still asks me for “a poke” when he sees me. It’s very cute!

Was it fun recreating Woodstock in A Walk on the Moon?

So much fun! Viggo and I got into this whole head frame. I have yet to meet Viggo; I don’t know that I ever will because he becomes his characters. What I loved about [the film] was that you saw everybody’s point of view properly fleshed out. [Director] Tony Goldwyn is a genius at bringing it all alive. He had such energy and passion, I swear this guy lived on oxygen. I don’t know if he slept or ate. This was Dustin Hoffman’s first [time] producing, and he would say, “Let’s just call it ‘Schtupping in the Catskills.’ We couldn’t come up with a name. I was like, “One day, Dustin, I’m going to quote you.” He was like, “Fine!” What I also loved about that movie is that it showed the plight of an entire generation, at least 50 percent of it. With the advent of the pill and the open sexuality that was just beginning to peek out of the sand at that point — not like the monster that ate the town that it’s become. It forced a whole generation of women to reflect on how limited their options were. And not just sexually, but metaphorically and emotionally. A lot of options came with that. Power is power, whether it’s sexual or financial or intellectual.

Then you did Unfaithful, which is a whole other take on the extramarital affair.

[Unfaithful director Adrian Lyne] is a great pollster. He wants to take everybody’s temperature on a subject and force them into revealing how they feel by showing them these images, and you actually identify with them one way or the other with what’s going on on screen. He loves to challenge everybody, sexually, through his movies. I took it like a dare! If you get offered that, you’re like, “I’ve got to have the balls to do this. I’ve got to.” I can’t run away from this, or all my life I’ll look over my shoulder and say, “What a wimp. I chickened out.” So I did it. [laughs] That’s pretty much how I feel about that.

You’ve worked with Richard Gere a number of times.

That was the second time. It was great to get back with him again because I was allowed to be a grownup. He didn’t allow me to be a grownup on Cotton Club. I was 18 and he wasn’t going to buy any of my B.S. Fair enough!

Was it a different kind of dynamic when you did Unfaithful?

Yes, we were both a lot less uptight in terms of the end result. We were much more relaxed and in the saddle as far as the process and speaking our truth. Whereas when we were younger I think it was more fear-based. He had mellowed and I had mellowed. There was always a lesson for both of us. It was fun on Nights of Rodanthe, too, because it got more and more accepting. Doesn’t gravity win in the end, anyway? [laughs] And him with his Buddhism and working with that all this time. You definitely feel the vibe when you’re around him. It’s nice.

It sounds like the wisdom of years. You’ve been at this a long time and we’ve watched you since you were a kid.

Did you see Six Pack? It was on TV recently.

I probably watched it 15 times on HBO when I was a kid.

Oh, that’s sweet. That was the year John Belushi died. I remember riding to work and the kids were saying, “Who’s that?” I was like, “You don’t know who John Belushi is? Oh, my God!” But they were so young. I said, “I bet you don’t even know who Elvis was.” “Do too! He was the fat guy who died.” I was like, “I’m gonna throw you out of the van while we’re rolling!” Which was my way of trying to keep them all energized on the way to work. It’s tough being an older sister.

And now you’re becoming one of the matriarchs. Making it all the way there from child actor doesn’t happen often.

[laughs] My kid’s going to college; I can pull that off. Sure, why not? I think I’m noticing it gets better as you go along. It gets more fun and there are challenges, but there are certain things that come easier to compensate for the challenges. But thank you, I don’t know what to say. You won’t find me being quotable saying that.

Tell us about making Under the Tuscan Sun.

I don’t know that I’ve ever had such a great experience in some ways, because the director [Audrey Wells] believed in my comedic potential. [The film] was a success, to me, because it was light-handed. It’s just funny enough to not be burdened with having to be funny. It was a great learning curve for me and she allowed me that. There was something about her faith in me that I lived up to. I’ve done other comedies where it was very isolating. The writer-director element is in its own camp over there by the monitors and they will get back to you with a note when they’re ready. You feel like you’re constantly auditioning. And I used to come home and be in the fetal position on the floor, crying, and Josh would be like, “Dude, it’s a comedy. What’s your problem?” I’m like, “I know! But I want to feel good doing it!” It was exhausting to have me for a wife, I’m sure, during that period. [laughs] Because I thought it would be fun and light and easy to do a comedy. That’s the point, right? And it had happened to me once, so I believed it was possible. But I’ve heard that comedians are the most tortured souls on earth. “Try to make it funny!” It’s got to be hard cranking it out like sausage. I can’t imagine.

I enjoyed Streets of Fire (1984) back in the day.

I graduated high school on that movie. Fun, total fun. Really hard work. That’s back when everything had to be hard. We were at Universal. [We stayed at] the Universal Sheraton, the old, original one. There was one pinball machine in the lobby and that was it for entertainment. There was nowhere to go and I was 18. The whole thing was tarped. We were literally turning blue from the exhaust fumes from all those motorcycles, pretending that it was night in August at three in the afternoon in the Valley.

You ended up on the cover of Time Magazine when you were 14, for the release of A Little Romance. What was that like for you?

The world was smaller. There were a lot fewer magazines on the newsstand, vying for attention. It was like winning the lottery, but I don’t remember buying a ticket. It was frightening and cool and very out-of-body. I remember standing at the kiosk on 57th Street with my mom and there’s my face lined up, a couple in a row. And Henry Kissinger in the upper right-hand corner. I was like, “If he can be in the upper right-hand corner and I can be on the cover, anything’s possible.” Anything is possible, and it had nothing to do with merit. I loved that I knew that. It had to do with a marketing campaign. I couldn’t really say it in words because it would seem ungrateful or overly analytical, but now I’m allowed to admit that I knew that. So I just had to survive it and enjoy it. And I knew that all my life it would be brought up to me. Even if I moved to Poughkeepsie and lived in a trailer, I’d still have that legacy. I knew Meryl Streep as this really sweet 26-year-old who was dating John Cazale, and she let me use her makeup. When [she was on the cover of Time in 1981] because of her, what she’d done, that was real. I knew I would have to stand in line a  long time if I wanted to wait for my ticket to get validated. It’s okay!

I hear you’ll be in the new Superman, directed by Zack Snyder.

Martha Kent. Yes. I’m going to see Sucker Punch this weekend; I’m going to the premiere. Watchmen is so unapologetic, and I’m so grateful that somebody, somewhere was allowed to be. I feel very included. It’s nice to be invited to the party! And I adore what I’ve seen of this young man, Henry Cavill, who’s playing the Man of Steel.

What else is next for you?

That’s all I know of. I’m going slow. I’m enjoying not knowing. It took me a couple of decades to decide I like that. [laughs] Surrender to the not knowing! I’m available! And we’ll see what comes my way.

I read somewhere that you always wanted to play a bad guy.

Anjelica Huston in The Grifters. That was like, wow. And when she directed “Bastard Out of Carolina.” I like bravado. I like, “Bet you didn’t see that coming!” I love that. Why is it that I’m haunted by certain people? I understand with time that they actually were an example of liberation to me in the craft, and I think that’s why I’m still doing it. Otherwise — what’s new, pussycat?

What do you love about making movies?

I love feeling connected to the present and the past. Movies capture the convergence of culture, history and point of view. “Really? We thought that was funny and sexy then?” So it becomes a snapshot, a time capsule. And it’s interesting because I think in some ways “Cinema Verite” is the ultimate example of that — specifically, intentionally. And at the same time there’s a metaphor for how we live our lives at any time, in comparison to how it’s shown in a movie. Slipping into the psyche of the times, and they’re always changing. And to be allowed to work and change with the times, and be current. That’s fun, to represent a generation. ▼

“Cinema Verite” premieres April 23 on HBO.