While Transparent's main focus is on its protagonist, Maura Pfefferman (played by the Emmy-winning Jeffrey Tambor), the Amazon series, which returns for its third season today, isn't solely about the titular trans parent at its center. It is, after all, a family dramedy—one inspired by creator Jill Soloway's own experience when her own parent went through a late-in-life transition.
Also central to Transparent's cast are Maura Pfefferman's adult children, Sarah, Josh, and Ali—three characters who are each caught up in their own personal crises through which they awkwardly stumble. Amy Landecker plays eldest daughter, Sarah, who might be the most complicated of the bunch. In Season One, she leaves her husband, Len, for her college girlfriend, Tammy; in Season Two, she leaves Tammy at their wedding reception and falls into a deep depression. The third season finds Sarah looking to find herself once again—all the while living with Len again in a platonic marriage while dabbling in S&M with a dominatrix named Pony.
When I talked to Amy Landecker over the phone last week, I cautiously told her that Sarah was my favorite character on the show—not because I felt like it would sound disingenuous, but because Sarah was my least favorite character during the show's first season. Such is the power of Jill Soloway's ability to display such intelligently written and, more importantly, realistic characters. None of Transparent's leads are completely lovable, nor are they abhorrent; it's possible to have both empathy and disdain for them within the confines of a single 30-minute episode, because, just like most of the people we know in real life, Transparent's characters are complicated people.
Landecker spoke about the way the cast and crew get to the heart of the show's characters, her theories why some viewers might have trouble with her character in particular, and why the entertainment industry needs to embrace change in order to create authentic human stories.
ESQ: Transparent's third season feels like my favorite season so far.
Landecker: We've been hearing that! With every show, it's so hard to keep up the excellence. Our writers are so great, and it's amazing how they can go even deeper. What I love about Season Three is that it feels like there's just a sure hand throughout—everyone has settled into the grooves of it and balanced the light and dark tones. You know, you'll cry one minute and laugh the next. And then maybe gasp. It's an intense journey, for sure, but I feel like the rhythm this year feels so great. I just saw the first three episodes on a big screen in Toronto, which is usually a horrific experience for me. [Laughs] But I managed to appreciate the narrative and feel a little blown away that I'm in this remarkable show.
It feels like this season is a little more comfortable with itself. The first two seasons had to do a little bit of explaining to tackle this important subject matter in careful ways. And the show, I think, has played a major role in bringing awareness to the trans community.
Jill said it so well in Toronto: "Year one: We did it. Year two: They like it! Year three: Here we are, we're hanging out." I think there was a huge mantle to carry and to treat the subject matter well, and there was a lot of responsibility on everyone's shoulders. In the second year, a lot of us were going through personal explosions in response to the first year, and we all dealt with that during the second season—like, what just happened?! It was a big first for a lot of us to be on a show that within a few months won a Golden Globe, to be going around the country speaking at LGBTQ events, to feel like something had happened. In this season, we're all at our most comfortable, and we can enjoy it.
I know you have a theater background. You're working with a cast that seems very close—does doing a television show about this family feel similar at all to working in the theater?
It does, actually. I never felt that way—I never had an "extended run," you could call it, with the people I've worked with. It has a lot to do with the way we work on the show. The quote is, "We favor the emotions, not the equipment." A lot of on-camera shoots deal with lighting and camera movement. Jill focuses on the people—any time spent is time spent on the emotional honesty, not where we're standing. The camera doesn't move unless there's an emotional beat change. In a theater experience, the words and the feelings are the most important—the lights coming on and off are the only equipment. So Transparent feels like that—a sense of familiarity, and it's as close to doing a play as I've had in an on-camera experience. There's a flow going—you're allowed to talk over each other, improvise. I can count on my hands how many times I've had to hit a mark. It's very unusual.
Our director of photography Jim Frohna is the sweetest—some kind of shaman or something. He's this very emotionally present, kind being who runs the camera. He creates this movement while he's shooting that you don't even feel his presence. It allows you to do things you normally wouldn't and behave like the character. You're completely comfortable and free. When people respond to the show and say, "It's so real, it's so courageous," it's because of how that crew is a part of our team. We all get together in the morning and have a gratitude moment. We talk about what's going on in our lives—every level, every department. We have this very kumbaya kind of vibe. But everyone is very ironic and cynical—it works. [Laughs] It's a perfect combination for really good storytelling and serves as a great balance for the narcissistic angst of Hollywood.
I saw you at a panel in New York last year, and during the Q&A period there came the dreaded question from a guy in the back of the audience about unlikable characters…
Yeeeah. Yep.
Jill Soloway gave a very good answer, explaining to him that he was responding to characters delivered through the female gaze, and it felt like a very diplomatic response—and then you absolutely railed on him. It was kind of amazing. I was both deeply uncomfortable and overjoyed.
[Laughs] Here's the theory I have. When we started, I'd say, look: The lead character in Mad Men sleeps with everyone and is a horrible person, and we still love him. Breaking Bad: The lead character is a drug dealer, but we still love him. The Sopranos: He's in the mafia! But all of those shows are slightly removed [from reality]. One's a period piece, one's a heightened look at this dark underworld, and then one's about the mafia. You can distance yourself from the behavior and emotionally detach from the narrative.
Our story is very small and personal—you can see your own shadow when you watch it. If you've raged, if you've mistreated somebody, if you've ever thought only about yourself—these are things that all human beings struggle with and judge themselves for. There's a love/hate relationship for these characters in the same way there's a love/hate relationship for our own behaviors. I have a combination of self-love and self-loathing, just like most people.
I don't want to say it's because we're women—although I do think that's part of it. The culture has a hard time with allowing women to be really sexual, or not people-pleasing. But it's because it really triggers people's own reactions to themselves.
I enjoy Sarah, and I enjoy playing her—I don't judge her. I find myself laughing at the things she says and does probably too often. She's absurd! And I'm not much like her—I'm way more of a people pleaser. I would never do 90 percent of the things that woman does. She doesn't come from that place; she comes from two narcissistic parents, and that's the way she's grown up. I think it's fun to play, and I think she's trying—I think all the Pfeffermans are trying. They're good people trapped in a narcissistic society. They're what most…Angelenos are like. [Laughs] Or at least most of the people in this industry.
There's been a larger conversation happening about representation in film and in television, triggered by Matt Bomer being cast as a transgender woman in a new movie. I know you don't play a trans character, but do you feel like you have a responsibility as a representative of your show?
I do! I am very close to a number of actresses who are trans and hungry for parts. I think when we cast Jeffrey [Tambor]… It feels like it might be the last time in history someone can get away with it. The problem I have with Matt and that project—and it's not them personally—the problem is that people who have no relationship to the experience are writing the story. Jill got away with more because it's a personal story—it was her experience with a pre-transition parent. That said, I think it's been tricky and touchy. I also think [when we started], the trans acting community hadn't been integrated at all within the Hollywood community.
We have transfirmative action in every department—we have more trans people than any show in history, I have no doubt. We have the first trans staff writer, a trans male director. Jill has really put her money where her mouth is. If you're gonna do it, someone involved has to be a part of that community. Imagine a white actor, a white director, a white writer doing an African-American story! That's what it feels like.
I get Hollywood is all about money and bankability—I get it! But I don't think it's OK anymore.
It also feels like the film industry moves slower in terms of diversifying and telling more authentic stories than TV.
It's this whole thing with the international markets. I think it's money—I've been told this by producers: "It's about who can sell abroad." But at the same time, maybe you need to make a little less money to do something right.
