When Marlee Matlin became the first Deaf actor to win an Oscar for “Children of a Lesser God,” back in 1986, she didn’t want to be the last. However, it took 35 years for another Deaf actor, Troy Kotsur, to be nominated (and win) for “CODA,” a film Matlin costarred in. In the poignant documentary, “Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore,” premiering at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, the actress reflects back on her career as well as her personal life, which included episodes of addiction and being abused, but also the joy of having grandchildren. 

Matlin was 21 years old when her film debut in “Children of a Lesser God” catapulted her to stardom. She recounts being very inexperienced at the time, and, as the documentary shows, she did not have guidance or language about many things. She received praise from the Deaf community, advocated for closed captions, and helped Gallaudet University hire a Deaf president when a hearing woman was named, much to the anger of students. (Deaf advocate Nyle DiMarco codirected a documentary about this event which is also playing at this year’s Sundance Film Festival). But when Matlin spoke — rather than sign — the names of the nominees at the 1987 Oscars, she faced a backlash from the Deaf community. 

In addition, her off-screen relationship with “Children of a Lesser God” co-star, William Hurt, was troubled due to allegations that he physically abused her. Matlin also struggled to find work because there were few parts written for Deaf actors. She received help from her friend Henry Winkler — whom she met when he saw her perform in Chicago — and Matlin started to get her career and her life back on track. Matlin also has the distinction of being the first Deaf patient at the Betty Ford Center. She bemoans that she had to pay for her interpreter to manage treatment. 

Directed by Deaf filmmaker Shoshannah Stern, this sensitive, illuminating documentary offers a candid profile of Matlin, chronicling her professional life, introducing her family — her siblings, husband, children, and a grandchild — while also explaining how she found her way in the world. She describes being rebellious as a teen but also being bored and isolated because she was frequently cut off, blocked off, dismissed and ignored. Now she feels more empowered, but acknowledges there is more she wants to do.

Matlin and Jack Jason, her business partner and sign language interpreter, spoke with Salon prior to the Sundance premiere of “Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore.”  

Author’s Note: Capital D Deaf is used when Deaf refers to people who are politically and culturally associated with the Deaf community. Little d deaf refers to people who have hearing impairments but see it as a medical, individual issue.

The comment that moved me most in this film is, “You are more than what people think you are.” Can you explain what prompted you to make this film now? 

All the years I have been in the entertainment business, or in the public eye, I have always felt like I was telling the story of the film, or play, or TV show that I was making. People would ask me questions about the project, and then I would talk about my life. In my [memoir], I am telling you my story in my words. This time, it was time to tell my story in my Marlee language, in my Marlee lens, with a person [director Shoshannah Stern] who occupies the same space. Knowing that you have to squeeze your entire life into 90 minutes isn’t as easy as you think it might be. Yet I was in good hands. I knew that Shoshannah would be able to put it in a neat and digestible package. There are so many different perspectives by so many different people on how [they see] me as a person who is Deaf, and they are not necessarily right. A lot of people thought they knew who I was. Some came with preconceived notions. I wanted to clear the air. It was time to lay all my cards on the table and let people watch and understand why I am who I am up to this point, today. 

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I love the moment in the film when someone says that every Deaf actress plays Sarah in “Children of a Lesser God;” that it is a “rite of passage.” The comment suggests there are very few roles for Deaf actresses. There is also a remark that the film is “about them,” meaning the hearing world, “not us,” meaning Deaf people. Do you feel you have more control over your career now than back in your salad days? 

I didn’t know any better at the [start of my career]. Work is work. I had bills to pay. I thought I belonged in Hollywood, so whatever they offered me, I thought, “I’ll take it!” That was just the way it was. I was a working actor, and I felt lucky and grateful that I was getting work. And I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I did enjoy the work I did — don’t get me wrong — but I didn’t think much then about how it was written, or how I was portrayed. At the end of the day, every role I did was from the perspective of a hearing person, and not a Deaf person. It was almost as if I literally didn’t have a voice to say to the writer, or producer, or director, “Why don’t we take a time out?” I didn’t think about that until “CODA.” No one asked me. As people who are Deaf, we are always patronized. We have a Deaf actor; we check that box. Things are different now, as you can see. 

I like that you explain in the film that you would not work on “CODA” if the other actors were not Deaf. Can you talk about inclusivity in your career and if you were often the only Deaf person on set? You are now making concerted efforts to change that. 

Absolutely. I have always been the one working as a Deaf person. Deaf actors said to me, "How do you get agency? How do you get this, and we don’t get this? Can you help me get an agent, or write, or act?" Why am I the only person? I was the one getting everything but no one else was getting anything. Why is no one else being included? I was always the only Deaf person, and people started to resent that I was the only one. My desire today is to spread the wealth and to help other Deaf actors get the screen roles that I do to act, or write, and direct. With “CODA,” and the fact that they were thinking of putting a hearing actor in a Deaf role — because box office — it clicked for me to say, “You can’t do this, or go backward and do what’s been done and accepted as “normal.’ It wouldn’t work, period.” It was a matter of me just getting tired. I surprised myself when I said I would walk away [from “CODA” if they hired a hearing actor]. 

The documentary addresses your family life, and I was touched by your relationship with your parents as well as your siblings. But I was struck by your alienation and your frustration — you were often bored and admirably, quite stubborn. I also love that you have the words “perseverance” and “warrior” tattooed on your body. What inspired me in your film — though I am sure it was frustrating for you — was your being left alone to solve things for yourself. Can you describe how you developed your sense of self before and after you were thrust into the national spotlight in such a major way?

I had to figure it out for myself! I had to navigate and find ways to serve me, unfortunately. I had to answer questions no one answered for me. Why am I doing this? Why am I stubborn? Why am I doing drugs? I managed to get through it all. 

I can say I had a great childhood. I didn’t come from a broken home, and I had the best of everything, but, yet, I didn’t have what I would have liked to have had, which is full communication. Maybe I expected more, but I am the kind of person who wants more than just what everyone else gets. I don’t want “just enough.” That’s who I am.

I appreciate your activism and advocacy for the Deaf community and the pressure you had representing the community. You certainly inspired many folks, but you also upset them at the Oscars when you read the nominee's names but did not sign them. What can you say about community acceptance, your advocacy, and how it has changed over the years?  

I can’t say I’m fully accepted by everybody yet. I still have a few detractors. I still have an apprehension of the Deaf community. For the most part, I have the utmost respect for the most powerful members of the [Deaf] community. I continue to feel pressure and be responsible for the community that rejected me outright and didn’t afford the respect that I thought I was going to get. There were people I looked up to. It is all a matter of how and what kind of upbringing we had. Different people who are Deaf have different kinds of ways of looking at the community, depending on how they were brought up — in deaf households, or in hearing households. As I spoke at the Oscars, I was completely thrown for a loop. No one told me why it was not right to just speak, even though I took the time to explain this is what I was doing, this is how I was raised, and this is what I was used to doing. It wasn’t until 10 years ago that I found out the reason why. People still come up to me and say, “I used to really hate you, but you’re OK.” Whatever.

There was a comment on social media recently — and I almost never look at social media comments — I put out a social media post about how I evacuated because of the fires, and someone said, “I never liked Marlee Matlin or her movies.” I thought, what does one have to do with the other — evacuation and my movies? I was this close to saying, “You don’t have to like me, or my movies, but why don’t you go and diss someone else who is in the process of trying to evacuate their home, instead of having to attach your dislike for me to something I am talking about on a personal level?” That really got to me. That stung. There are still haters out there. I hope my film at least clears the air, and it shows people that I am sensitive about what people say about me. To those detractors who don’t want to try to understand where I came from, I’m not asking them to like me, but I would like to ask them to take 90 minutes to watch the film and understand me better and learn.

I don’t want to trigger more painful memories, but I found your comments about your relationship with William Hurt and not having the resources — and having a language deprivation — when addressing the abuse quite powerful. How do you process all this trauma all these years later?

It’s cathartic for me to talk about it. It helps me to be able to talk about it. I think about other women and men who might be in similar situations — particularly Deaf women and men — who don’t necessarily have the resources to get help. Back then, I didn’t even know that I could ask for help. The film only shows this much [holds up fingers to indicate an inch] of what I went through. It’s mind-blowing to think about the fact that at the time, I lived in an apartment with William Hurt, and I would scream almost every day and night and not one single neighbor called the cops. To this day, I still don’t get it. 

I was tickled that you stayed at Henry Winkler’s home for two years and even had your wedding in his backyard. Can you talk about your friendship with him? He seemed to have a pivotal and positive role in your life. 

When I heard that he was coming to the Center for Deafness when I was performing, I was ready to grab his attention. I made a plan in my mind. I remember standing behind the curtain peeking out to see him there. When he tapped me on the shoulder [after the show] and said I was great, I wanted to talk with him. My mother told him not to encourage me too much. In reality, what could a deaf girl in Hollywood expect? Executives wouldn’t know what to do with her. She put that out to Henry, and he said, “You got the wrong person.” We stayed in touch. I wrote letters to him when I was 14 and 15. I still have his letters. When I did my first professional theater [performance] at 19, he sent me a bouquet of flowers. We were in touch from when I was 12 to when I was 19. Then I got the role in “Children of a Lesser God.” I remember asking Henry if I could stay at his home for the weekend, and it ended up being two years. When I decided I needed to grow up and move out, I remember I said, “I think I need to move out,” and his wife Stacey said, “What did we do wrong?”

Typical Jewish mother!

[Laughs] Exactly a Jewish mother! Then I met Kevin, my husband, and I told him we needed to go to the Winker house. Henry and Stacey were in bed reading the newspaper and I went like this [gestures showing off an engagement ring] and Stacey said, “You’re getting married here!” The dance floor was built on top of their swimming pool — because they needed the same dance floor for their daughter’s Bat Mitzvah, so it was 2 for the price of 1.

In the documentary, we see you directing an episode of “Accused,” and you have produced some projects. Do you think you will do more work behind the camera, or perhaps write a film to create more opportunities for you and other Deaf actors?

If only they would call me to do a role! I am waiting, but I am also being proactive. I don’t like playing the waiting game. Everyone says that in the entertainment business. I’m not trying to start a pity party here, but the thing is you need to know people in the industry to get work. I do have friends. But I have more acquaintances — people who say, “Hi, we love you. You’re great. Kiss Kiss.” But I’d like to work more as a director or as a producer. 

[Jack adds: She’s producing a lot of projects.] 

I’m impatient. Hopefully, this documentary will kickstart things and people know what I can offer. It’s working at a different level. What I can do, and what Deaf people can do, and how we communicate and lend ourselves for the betterment of a project. 

I loved seeing you sing to Billy Joel’s “My Life,” during the documentary’s end credits. What is something folks might be surprised to learn about you?

That was my purpose to sing that song. No one, except very close friends, knew that I do that when I drive my car. No one knows that I sang that song to Billy Joel at his house when he was married to Christie Brinkley. They videotaped it. I have to get ahold of her to get it. If you can get a hold of that tape, that would be great. Go, Gary, go!

"Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore” screens at the Sundance Film Festival Jan 23-25 and January 29 in person and is available online January 30-February 3.