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Barbra Streisand on the Challenges and Joys of Directing
From: American Film Institute | By:

EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION | Barbra Streisand's award-winning film debut in the 1964 musical Funny Girl launched her acting career, but it was her on-set work with director William Wyler that inspired Streisand to become a director. Nineteen years later, Streisand made her directorial debut with Yentl and became the first woman to produce, direct, write and star in a major motion picture.

In this article adapted from interviews with and speeches by Streisand dating back to 1968, the acclaimed actress, director and singer describes her lifelong passion for the art of filmmaking and addresses the challenges and joys of directing such great films as The Prince of Tides (1991) and The Mirror Has Two Faces (1996).



hildhood was a difficult time for me. Growing up with one parent, wanting to be an actress, wanting to escape real life and go into this world of the imagination, of make-believe. I guess that's why I decided to make movies, to make life happen the way I wanted it to be.


As a teenager I was kind of lonely; I had one date in high school. I would take my brother's blue drawing pencil and put it on my eyes. Also, my mother had purple lipstick, and I took some white zinc oxide and mixed the colors so I had violet lips, blue eyes, and then I put blonde streaks in my hair. I tried to get rid of it with a henna rinse, and, my hair being porous, turned blue and green. They used to call me "colorful." I guess I was ahead of my time. I wore frilly clothes, but I hung around with other kids in the Honor Society, who wore glasses and oxfords and no make-up. I was this absolute misfit.


As a way of escaping reality, I hid out a lot at a nearby theater that showed these wonderful movies with subtitles. It was an art house, although at the time I had no idea what that was. I just know that those monochromatic frames--those black and white films--that I later realized were made by Kurosawa, and other great directors, would resonate for me many years later.


I arrived in Hollywood without accepting advice to change my name, cap my teeth and fix my nose. I had to prove that you don't have to be so beautiful to be a movie star...or conventionally beautiful. My mother thought I should be a typist in the school system to ensure a regular income. Now I look at her with enormous gratitude for inadvertently motivating me.


I was fortunate to have a cinematic giant as my first director. William Wyler, whom I adored, was a brilliant storyteller who knew the truth when he saw it. His willingness to listen--even to this neophyte's ideas--made me want to please him even more. One of my prized possessions is a megaphone Willy gave me at the end of shooting Funny Girl, to encourage me to direct. I still have it on my desk.


What I love about directing is the learning process, the research, the details, the challenge of how to tell the story--how to serve the actors who have entrusted themselves to you, how to create an atmosphere where the actor is free to bare his soul and reveal his own truth.


When I got to direct my first movie, I felt grateful to finally be in control of my own work. I discovered that this newfound power had to be used with restraint and consideration...that once you finally have power, you can give it away and that the giving of power enhances your own. You don't have to raise your voice when everyone is finally listening.


I know I can speak more eloquently through my work than through any speech I might give. So, as an artist, I've chosen to make films about subjects and social issues I care about, whether it's dealing with the inequality of women in Yentl or producing a film about Colonel Grethe Cammermeyer, who was discharged from the Army for telling the truth about her sexuality.


Yentl's struggle was enriched by the struggle I experienced as a filmmaker. Yentl's passion was fired by my own, by the passion I had to sustain in the face of all the people who told me that making this film would be impossible. I had to prove them wrong. I had to prove to myself that I could do it. I was scared, but I had to do it anyway.


I'm drawn to subjects that celebrate life and the resilience of the human spirit. The beauty of art is that it can show humanity to itself. The Prince of Tides is about how love and compassion can heal and liberate the soul. I feel a deep commitment to making films about positive transformations and the unlimited potential for human growth. I was attracted to the challenge of bringing Pat Conroy's wonderful book to the screen as a director first, and as an actress I was intrigued by the concept of the wounded healer I play in the film.


Like Yentl, The Mirror Has Two Faces explored the mystery of appearances, the intricacy of primal relationships, the possibilities of personal transformation and the part love plays in it all.


Art does not exist only to entertain, but also to challenge one to think, to provoke, even to disturb, in a constant search for the truth. Art can illuminate, enlighten, inspire. Art finds a way to be constructive. It becomes heat in cold places; it becomes light in dark places. Art is the signature of a generation; artists have a way of defining the times. Why should an actor give up his role as citizen just because he's in show business? With no special interest and serving no personal or financial agenda, artists make moral commitments to many issues that plague our society. Indeed, this participation often makes artists vulnerable professionally. We, as people, are more than what we do--as performers, professors or plumbers. We also are--we also should be--participants in the larger life of society. Until women are treated equally with men, until gays and minorities are not discriminated against and until children have their full rights, artists must continue to speak out.


I'm very flawed, very imperfect. I am my own worst critic. I put far more demands on myself than I do on anyone else. And when people envy me, I think, "Oh, God, don't envy me. I have my own pains." Money and fame don't wipe that out. I'm not comfortable with my success. I never was. I don't like to be recognized. I don't feel like a 'star.' I once invited Elizabeth Taylor and Sophia Loren to my house to see what real movie stars were like.


I live with the tension of opposites. I feel like I'm lazy, and yet I always seem to be working. I believe in myself, and yet I'm consumed with self-doubt.


My grandmother used to call me fabrent, which means "on fire." I remember being sick in bed with the chicken pox when I was a kid. But I got dressed anyway, snuck out the window and went down the street to play. I just couldn't accept no for an answer. I still can't. I want to work with people who say, "Yes, it can be done."


It's been said that a man's reach should exceed his grasp. Why can't that be true for a woman? I do want to control my own destiny. I want to be responsible for everything I do in my life, whether it's good or bad. I hear music; I dream--I have visions in my head. It's very rewarding to have them materialize.