Kathrine Narducci is an Italian American actress often considered one of the most recognizable faces of cinema linked to organized crime: a modern queen of the genre, able to bring on screen hardness, elegance and a very recognizable New York attitude. She first noticed with A Bronx Tale and then became a memorable presence in I Soprano.
Over the years he has built a career able to move naturally between great criminal stories and television, with roles in The Irishman, Godfather of Harlem and Alto Knights. More recently, she has come into contact with a new generation thanks to Euphoria, confirming her presence through different eras of the audiovisual story.
You often play strong and unpredictable women. How much of this comes from observation and how much from you?
I’d say half and half. I come from a family of very strong women, so I have a lot to draw on. But I also survived my life and my childhood. Growing up in East Harlem, you learn very soon to survive: on the street, in the city, in everything. That fits you. Makes you stronger. And then there is this job: you have to survive here too. You feel “no” a thousand times before getting a “yes”. It needs spine. It needs hard skin. The strength you see in the characters comes from both things: from observation and experience.
Working with directors like Martin Scorsese, how much does the setting affect your interpretation?
Marty understands that culture: he is that culture. For me it is a phenomenon, a person to whom we all look with admiration. On its set everything is accurate, authentic, at the highest level. Whether it’s historical, local or simple as a dinner table, it’s all real. If we are sitting there eating Italian food and conversing, it seems real life, because he knows exactly how that world must appear and move. That level of detail gives you everything, as an actor: you just have to get inside and live it.
In stories dominated by men, do you see your characters as external figures or as women who understand better than others power?
I do not interpret the daisies that wield: I am more a rose with thorns. Those women understand power. Take the Sopranos: I was the voice of reason. I was holding Tony’s head. I put him back. I let Artie feel the boss, but it was actually me who put things on. This is the energy I carry in those roles. Also in other films I compare myself to the same with powerful men. These women are not on the edge: they know exactly how the game works.
Your interpretations look raw, almost documentary. How do you get to that truth without working too much on it?
First of all, thank you: it is a great compliment. I had an acting teacher, Charlie Kazakakis, who always shouted: “As in life, as in life: be faithful to life.” And working with Robert De Niro in A Bronx. “Be yourself. Be true.” I’ve been in. I don’t want to force or go find anything. The moment I feel it’s happening, I stop. Breathe. Start again. He must come from something real, otherwise it’s not worth it.
Thinking back to A Bronx Tale, was it a decisive moment or just a stage of your journey?
It was decisive because he confirmed what I already felt. I always asked myself that question: am I an actress? And then being called by De Niro, after an open call, made me realize that I was exactly where I had to be. That moment put everything in place for me.
Have you ever had to fight against the risk of being locked up in some kind of roles, or have you learned to use it for your benefit?
Both. I’m fighting, of course. I am a member of the Actors Studio and I work on things that I would never be chosen for, like Medea. No New York accent, nothing people expect from me. I do it because I’m not going to close myself in a box, besides the one they’re already trying to put me in. When actors are stereotyped, it is like telling Andy Warhol to paint only Campbell soup jars forever. Sure, you’ll have a career, but will it be fulfilling? No. So yes, I can interpret the boss’s wife, but I don’t want it to be the only thing. I need to prove to myself that I can do something else, and the only way to do it is to really work on it.
You have worked in I Soprano and now in Euphoria: two HBO series that have created icons for different generations. What changes?
It is different, but in a way it is also equal. Both series managed to capture something unrepeatable. Talent is undeniable. With the Sopranos, even if we were talking about mafia, the heart of the series was universal: family, dysfunctions, therapy, identity. People recognized themselves in that. Euphoria does the same thing, only in a different world. He speaks of young people, addiction, sexuality: things with which everyone is dealing with today. Both series have heart, empathy and something real in the center. That’s why they work. People see themselves in those stories, even if the context is different.
In terms of momentum and impact, does Euphoria look different to I Soprano?
The difference is that we put HBO on the map. This is simply the truth. The Sopranos changed everything. We lifted the asticella, we made television think differently. Afterwards, everyone began to go further. So serious as Euphoria build on something we helped create. We put those bases.
What kind of role are you still looking for today?
I would like to explore more empathy, more humor, plus my soft side, without losing the edge. I like that balance, yin and yang. That is why I loved my role in Euphoria: it was hard, but it also had heart. He took care of those boys, he had different layers. They attract me characters like this: hard and soft at the same time. Less predictable, less to one note. Unless it’s something really special, maybe back next to De Niro.
L’articolo Kathrine Narducci: the rose with thorns comes from IlNewyorkese.
