The script was sent to me,
and I started reading it.
She kept appearing on the next page,
then the next page, and the next page.
I was like, "Oh my god, this is a phenomenal role."
Mari Gilbert is the
mother of Shannan Gilbert,
who in our story, goes missing.
And Mari, as she searches for her daughter,
she's met with a lot of resistance
from the police department.
The more resistance she gets, the harder she fights.
This is my daughter, Shannan Maria Gilbert.
There's one here for every day that she's missing
and I'm gonna continue posting these until
you either find her, or die of paper cuts.
Do not ignore me.
It started externally,
kinda hiding myself away into, into Mari's world.
Then the rest was just from the script and instinct.
Being a mother, tapping into that outrage
of, you know, your mother cub instinct
comes out big time in this one.
Our hair designer put an incredible piece
of hair on my head, that kinda started to set the tone.
Marci Rodgers, our brilliant costume designer,
actually found a sweater that Mari wore.
You just put them on and they become, a bit of an armor.
You stand differently, the boots, the wig, the leather coat,
it automatically changes your frame.
She's a force of a woman.
She's a single parent, raising her children,
had to make really hard choices
about her parenting skills and she's a woman who
had a lot of guilt about those choices and shame.
So, in the course of our story,
in Lost Girls, we see her coming to terms with that.
What was I supposed to say?
"Mommy gave your sister away because she couldn't get her
the help she needed?"
Do you think I wanted that for Shannan?
Do you think I didn't try to do everything
in my power to get her the help she needed?
In any film when I've had,
when my characters had a child,
I get very possessive of that actor.
I kinda claim them as my own.
And when their real parent comes in,
I'm a little put off, like,
"What are you doing here?”
"They're mine."
But you know, I form bonds quickly with younger people.
It's been rare in my experience to come across
a script that had not just one great female protagonist but
a whole group of dynamic, interesting, complex female parts.
Large group scenes with all the women,
the one where we're in the Chinese restaurant,
I remember that was such a joyous day.
We wanted to stay in that scene for a long time.
Have you watched the news?
It's all, "He's a cop," "he's a clammer,"
"he's this," "he's that."
It's all "him," "him," "him."
What about our girls?
Who's talking about them?
And when they do, it's "prostitute," "hooker,"
"sex worker," "escort."
Never "friend," "sister,"
"mother," "daughter."
They don't care.
There's great rage and sorrow,
in this, in this world.
And that was sometimes frightening to go to.
And it took a bit to shake it off, at the end of the day.
And the elements were intimidating, winter in Jones Beach.
That's quite cold, if you haven't been.
I had days in which you know, maybe,
I was feeling tired, or I was cold,
and, “Are we doing this scene again
out on the beach?”
And I would then shake myself,
and tell myself, you know, “Buck up.”
You get to go home to your warm, cozy bed.
And Mari can't.
And that was very sobering and that
that focused me, that kept me on track.
Makes me very sad.
To play Mari Gilbert,
to play a woman of such ferocious strength,
and dignity,
it's a gift as an actress, it's a gift as a woman.
To find your voice, use your voice,
and, God, I admire her for that.