Kate Berlant Is Ready to Be Used by Hollywood

In her one-woman show, there’s a running joke that Kate Berlant cannot cry on cue. Throughout the performance, she stands in front of a camera that projects footage of her onto a screen above the stage, contorting her face, willing a single tear to fall until, at long last, she triumphs. 

Recently, as she closed out the final performances of KATE at the Pasadena Playhouse — after runs in New York and London — the tears were real and more akin to hysterical sobs. “It’s such a surreal experience,” says Berlant, 36, from backstage at the Playhouse. “The crowd can’t tell because they see the tears and think I’m just acting. It made me think about how there’s sort of no difference between a deep emotional experience and just … pretending.” 

KATE is an auto-fictional scripted comedy routine meets theatrical experience. Berlant speaks directly to the audience, telling a version of her life story rife with creative liberties: She adopts an Irish brogue when imitating her mother (who is actually from Spain), she describes her childhood as unfriendly to her artistic pursuits (her father is a professional painter and sculptor). It’s directed by actor-comedian Bo Burnham, who helped shape her delightfully erratic, if occasionally fractured, stand-up sensibilities into something more structured. They open the show with a video montage that scrolls through her IMDb profile — parts in Sorry to Bother You, The Other Two and A League of Their Own — and displays her agent’s contact info (it’s Andrew Skikne at UTA!). Another bit revolves around the conceit that “Steve,” an executive from Disney+, is in the audience, proverbial pen-for-imaginary-contract in hand, just waiting to be blown away by her raw talent (and ability to cry on command).

The show satirizes The Business, but the subject matter stems directly from Berlant’s very real desire to be part of it. She’s pretending not to be able to cry on camera while also showing the world how good she is at acting like she can’t cry on camera. “Much to the reality of the theater show, I’m desperate to be in good films,” she says. 

In conversation, Berlant often drops into a version of her stage persona — eyes crossed, voice a pitch higher, cadence staccato-like — to make a point or address the imaginary Hollywood executive in the room. When asked what her first truly transcendent acting role was, she quips: “Still waitin’! Guys?!” and she describes her experience filming a small part in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood as an exercise in restraint. “I realized, this isn’t about trying to be a ‘scene stealer’ or getting noticed,” she says. “I had to look in the mirror in my trailer and tell myself: Do not cross your eyes. This is not an opportunity for you to do your shtick.” Olivia Wilde, who directed Berlant in Don’t Worry Darling, describes her style as “like Andy Kaufman, Charlie Chaplin, Lily Tomlin and Carrie Fisher’s group love child, but somehow something completely new.” 

Berlant has long had aspirations to perform. She grew up in Los Angeles (technically Santa Monica, which she describes onstage as “a small seaport town”), so the industry was sort of just hovering nearby, mostly untouchable. Only one other girl in her childhood circle had an interest in an entertainment career, so the two would often hold movie marathons or write together on their bedroom floors. But since this is L.A., that friend is Samy Burch, who just received an Oscar nomination for her debut screenplay, May December; Berlant hopes to join her at the Dolby in March (though she’ll only offer a smirky “no comment” when asked if she’ll be Burch’s plus-one) and the two are now planning a joint project. 

After being rejected by acting schools, Berlant focused on stand-up because it offered a sort of insulation from the pain of being at the whim of the Hollywood system: “Having to surrender entirely to that was never an option.” She craves the liberating feeling that comes with knowing you’re in charge of your own creative destiny, especially in contrast to the drawn-out pitching and development processes she’s experienced at networks and streamers, often to wind up with nothing to show for it. In 2017, she and John Early — her best friend and frequent collaborator — sold a pilot presentation to Hulu that never made it, and then, just before the pandemic, they were in preproduction on a Comedy Central pilot that was later dropped. Berlant also filmed her stand-up special Cinnamon in the Wind (her first project with Burnham) in 2019, only to see the finished product sit dormant at FX for years. “They didn’t release it and I had no information, so I was like, ‘Cool, should I just kill myself now?’ ” she deadpans. “With all of it, I never know what to do. I’m happy the special finally exists, but it was deeply frustrating at the time.”

None of this has been upsetting enough to derail her, though. She speaks openly about having a high pain tolerance for rejection, and now that KATE’s run is coming to an end, she and Early are going to try again. “For the love of God, will someone just let us make a TV show?” she says, eyes crossed anew. She’s feeling fortified by the show’s reception — personal heroes like Will Ferrell and Kristen Wiig came to the most recent run, and Wilde joined for her third viewing, admitting, “I was fully weeping at the end, as was my entire row” — and her decision to end it while it still feels alive and sought-after. “I could still do it more, which seems to be a reason to stop,” she says. “I think things ripen and then they rot, so I’d rather stop while it feels very alive.” 

Now, she’s processing not just the reality of having her dreams come true but having to talk about success. “I’m not being facetious when I say this was such a big thing for me and my career,” she says with a slight cringe. “It’s made me want to do more shows, more theater, in the future. Having a direct experience in front of a crowd who left their house to see me, it really is enough.”

Of course, if you’re reading this and you have a part you think she’d be good for, don’t hesitate to reach out. “I would really love to tell people: ‘Use me!’ ”

This story first appeared in the Feb. 14 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.