All That Is Bitter and Sweet_ A Memoir - Ashley Judd [64]
But before we embarked, Moyra and I had one piece of business to finish: the 2005 Golden Globe Awards, which were held the night before I was scheduled to depart for Kenya. The Golden Globes are the season’s first display of Hollywood opulence and glamour, and they have always been special to me because of my best actress nomination for Ruby in Paradise, which auspiciously launched my career in films. This time I was up for best actress in a musical or comedy for my role as Cole Porter’s wife, Linda, in De-Lovely. My costar and screen husband, Kevin Kline, was nominated for best actor, so it was going to be a fun night.
On the day of the show, our suite was bustling with activity. The best part of events like the Golden Globes is the chance for me to visit with some of our far-flung friends and people in the film business who share that part of my life but whom I don’t often get to see. Salma Hayek popped by with her dog, Blue, whom she’d been inspired to adopt because of Buttermilk and Shug, and we compared stories about our passion for roses. Salma and I are like sisters and have been even before I played Tina Modotti in Frida, which this amazing woman both starred in and produced. I had been telling her all about my work with PSI, and I had already convinced her to come with me on one of my trips.
By midafternoon it was time to pile into the limo and head to the Beverly Hilton. Dario looked so handsome in his tuxedo. He is always a good sport about dressing up for these events and facing the banks of cameras with me, and we always take our own pictures before we leave the hotel—the Mamaw and Papaw, I call it, because my grandparents took great snaps on occasions when they dressed up. Awards shows are merely a part of what I do—they certainly don’t represent who I am—but I really enjoy making movies, and red carpet events are now inseparable from the creative part of acting that I love.
De-Lovely had been released by MGM, which also had a hand in distributing Hotel Rwanda that year, and we were all seated together at the Globes: I was able to spend more time with the terrific Irish director Terry George and with Don Cheadle, who played the hotel manager who sheltered and saved hundreds of Tutsis from the genocide-sweeping Rwanda in 1994. Terry and Don had invited the real manager, Paul Rusesabagina, who was seated at our table, and we visited all evening, mostly about his trip to the States and what an amazing movie had been made from such a painful story. I couldn’t fathom what he had been through during the slaughter, although I could clearly see the weight of it in his eyes and in his posture. He told me that he now lived with his family in Belgium. I wanted to learn more about his life but felt it wasn’t an appropriate setting to ask, so I simply offered him my friendship and told him I hoped I could visit Rwanda someday.
Wherever I am, I hope to focus completely on the task at hand, banishing any thoughts of the past or the future, engaging fully in the moment. But I was very aware that night that I had a foot in two worlds. Not many of my colleagues knew the first thing about my international work (most still do not!), and it wasn’t something I could casually share with people in that setting: “Hey, tomorrow I’m going to Africa to visit some slums and brothels. Would you please pass the champagne?” I was caught up in the paradox of my life, feeling neither here nor there—which is generally a tricky place for me to be.
The next morning I kissed Dario goodbye and started packing for the trip. Not unexpectedly, some of my old coping behaviors started welling up in the stress and excitement of leaving. I wandered around the large suite in a daze all day, knots of anxiety and jubilation warring in my stomach. I’d cross the room,