In 1995, Charlize Theron was newly arrived in Hollywood after stints as a model and a dancer, living in a fleabag motel, and running out of money. Her mother had sent the 20-year-old Theron a check from South Africa, but when she went to the bank to cash it, they refused her. Fed up, Theron threw what has been repeatedly called “a tantrum.” That argument, coupled with her beauty, caught the eye of an agent, who promptly handed over his business card. Fast-forward a few months, and there’s Theron in white lingerie, towering over Los Angeles in billboards for 2 Days in the Valley.
This anecdote finds its way into almost every profile of Theron, and Theron herself has regularly described it as “Lana Turner-esque,” referencing the classic Hollywood star who, according to popular lore, was “discovered” at Schwab’s Soda Fountain in Los Angeles in 1937. The tantrum, the beauty, and the comparisons to Turner — best known for her ice-cold platinum look and secretly sordid private life — provided the star mold for Theron’s early image. Like Turner, Theron was raised in rural isolation; like Turner, her father was murdered, leaving her and her mother to survive on their own. Neither had traditional training as actresses. Both were routinely underestimated, initially cast as pretty faces with beautiful bodies.
But unlike Turner, who was exploited and abused by a series of men in her private and professional life, Theron charted a different career trajectory for herself almost immediately. Over the course of the next two decades, her image has shifted from cool girl to bitch, and now from bitch to broad. Even with — or despite — her traditional beauty, she’s achieved a position of cultural and industrial power akin to Bette Davis and Katharine Hepburn, who, like Theron, prided themselves on ignoring the unspoken rules of proper (female) star behavior.
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A portrait from Charlize Theron's early modeling career in 1991 (left) and Lana Turner.
David Sandison / The Independe / REX / Shutterstock; William Grimes / Michael Ochs Archives / Getty Images
Today, Theron still labors to get people to talk about what she’s reading, her craft, or her politics, instead of what she ate to gain weight or what she’s doing in her private life. She continues to fight the idea that the private lives of female stars are not only public property, but take precedence over whatever they do onscreen. For that, she’s been labeled a bitch, a diva, and an ice queen. But she’s also fashioned one of the most enduring and unexpectedly varied careers in the business, positioning herself as one of the most bankable — and powerful — stars in Hollywood.
Theron has said that she’s “very attracted to characters who don’t necessarily make it easy to be loved.” But she’s only been able to refuse niceness, onscreen and off, because of her beauty: It’s the capital she keeps cashing in order to get interesting roles that will de-emphasize, or at least trouble, the privileges that attend being a thin, white, straight woman in today’s society.
So what happens when that beauty, at least by Hollywood standards, comes of age? First, you keep conducting your career as a man would — or, more precisely, you redefine what a woman’s career might look like. And then you lobby for, demand, or create the very roles that Hollywood wouldn’t otherwise. As Theron enters the third decade of her career, she hasn’t just figured out how to game the system. She’s trying to change it entirely.
After 2 Days in the Valley, Theron’s agent arranged for her to audition for Showgirls. She was purportedly offered the lead role, later given to Elizabeth Berkley, but turned it down — and fired her agent. “We can see where he saw my career going,” she later told W magazine. She didn’t work for nearly a year; all of her offers were for “sex-kitten” roles that required her to take her clothes off. And then she won a part in That Thing You Do!, Tom Hanks’s directorial debut.
The role was significantly reduced during the editing process, but served as an opening for Theron. Over the next five years, she’d go on to play a string of wives and girlfriends who only periodically took off their clothes. Those films (The Astronaut’s Wife, Reindeer Games, and a half dozen more) were all relative duds, yet Theron was celebrated as one of the most beautiful women in the world — and became famous enough to attract funding for Monster. It was a role that promised to change the conversation about her.
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From top: 2 Days in the Valley, 1996, The Astronaut's Wife with Johnny Depp, 1999, and Reindeer Games with Ben Affleck, 2000
MGM; New Line; Dimension Films | All Courtesy Everett Collection
But that conversation was not easily changed. Every star, no matter their gender or their beauty, their age or their acting, gets slotted in a particular place in Hollywood as soon as they give a performance worth writing about. For Theron, that place has always been “rural cool girl”: the male fantasy of a hot girl who doesn’t take anything too seriously, who loves to hang with the boys, who’s low-drama and won’t hassle the men in her life with bullshit like asking for things.
Early profiles always mentioned Theron’s “discovery” story, but reveled in her past: how she grew up on farm, how her best friend was a goat, how she swears like a sailor, how she just happens to be the most beautiful woman in the world, with a body to match. Pictures of her — in Playboy, Esquire, Vanity Fair — highlighted the second part of the equation, while the interviews took care of the rest.
She wasn’t just raised in rural South Africa, but as many articles emphasized, on a “dirt farm” — which really just means they farmed without irrigation, but sounds much more rural, and, well, dirtier, than “farm.” In one of her first profiles of her, People magazine reported that Theron, growing up an only child, relied on a goat named Bok to be her best friend. “I grew up surrounded by animals,” she told EW in 1997. “I was milking cows before school at six in the morning and making butter; I can do all that shit.” She’s a tomboy, who, according to the Ottawa Citizen, “loves a big barbecue”; she learned all about engines from her father, who was a mechanic. “I don’t remember when I learned how to drive,” she told the South African Sunday Times. “I just woke up one day and I could.” According to Theron, when she was filming The Italian Job — with stunts that required precise technical driving — Mark Wahlberg would do a 360 and start puking while Theron yelled “What’s up, girl?” at him.
Early profiles reveled in Theron's past: how she grew up on farm, how her best friend was a goat, how she just happens to be the most beautiful woman in the world, with a body to match.
In at least six different interviews, Theron ate steak. Breakfast: steak and eggs. Lunch: steak salad. Dinner: strip steak. And she was seemingly always drinking: shots of tequila, bottles of Rolling Rock, dive-bar booze. “She has the appetite of a lumberjack,” according to Good Housekeeping. “She doesn’t subscribe to Hollywood’s passion for grasshopper-thin figures,” said Biography. She chain-smoked. She had tattoos. She said “fuck” a lot. For Vogue, she had “the swear-heavy vocabulary of a randy stevedore.” In Vanity Fair, Kenneth Branagh related an anecdote from their time together on the set of Woody Allen’s Celebrity: “We were stuck in the back of a Teamsters van waiting for the rain to stop,” he said. “It was the filthiest conversation I’ve ever had. The two Teamster lads couldn’t believe their ears.”
To promote her early roles — mostly as girlfriends, wives, and love interests to middlingly handsome men, from Ben Affleck (Reindeer Games) to Keanu Reeves (Sweet November), she was placed on the covers of magazines, often without pants or a top. “Why be afraid of your sexuality?” she told Vanity Fair. “I have to use that. ...Nudity, if used correctly, is extremely powerful.”
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Playboy
Nudity served to get Theron steady, if unremarkable, work — and it soon dominated her image. In 1999, Playboy published nude photos of Theron that had been taken years before when she was still modeling. Theron attempted, unsuccessfully, to sue the magazine, but the effect on her image was complete. Regardless of consent, the cover of Playboy had the same connotation: Theron was a hot girl, a Playboy girl, not an actress of substance.
Her cool girl image began to morph in other, darker ways. Theron was purportedly undeterred by the male-dominated film industry, because, as she told the Courier-Mail, “the more men you throw my way, the more I just become alive.” She supposedly snagged boyfriend Stephan Jenkins, lead singer of Third Eye Blind, by going backstage at a concert at the Hard Rock Cafe in Hawaii. That relationship dissolved, but when she started dating Irish film star Stuart Townsend, it was framed as an on-set seduction: Theron “has a reputation as a man-eater in Hollywood,” as the Sunday Mirror proclaimed.
“Man-eater” was the only way to describe a hot woman who 1) wasn’t married; 2) didn’t talk about her plans to become married; and 3) never affected an aura of “niceness” in interviews. The rural cool girl had become a vamp: a long-standing Hollywood stereotype that expands to describe darkly sexual women like Angelina Jolie (who, around this time, was wearing a vial of husband Billy Bob Thornton's blood around her neck) and Theron, as the narrative of her childhood was revealed to be much darker than previously suggested.
In early interviews, Theron claimed that her father had died in a car accident when she was just 15. But in 1998, police reports emerged detailing how Theron’s mother, Gerda, shot and killed her husband after he threatened to kill both her and Charlize. The shooting was ruled an act of self-defense; no charges were ever brought. When the real story broke, Theron never tried to deny it, but did not comment directly on it, save a single primetime special with Diane Sawyer “so that everyone would know and so we could demystify the whole thing,” as she later told Interview.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve auditioned for a role, only to have my agent come back and say, ‘Listen, Charlize, they saw you in the orange dress and they don’t think you can do it.’”
Still, it became a fixture in press to come — a sort of shadow over the cool girl narrative, a central tragedy that could be connected to every role she chose, every decision she made — especially when, in 2003, she dramatically transformed herself for the role of serial killer Aileen Wuornos in a small, indie movie called Monster.
Leading up to Monster, Theron’s role as a cover girl was secure. She was voted the “Most Desirable Woman” of 2003 by the readers of AskMen.com. But the parts she got were generally shit — and the movies themselves by and large bombed. The Astronaut’s Wife earned $19 million back of its $75 million budget; The Legend of Bagger Vance earned just $40 million (budget: $80 million); Reindeer Games grossed $32 million (budget: $42 million); The Yards didn’t even crack $1 million (budget: $24 million). Sweet November performed decently but was so bad it won Theron her first Razzie nomination for Worst Actress. The Curse of the Jade Scorpion will go down as one of Woody Allen’s major flops. Trapped, costarring Kevin Bacon, earned $13 million (budget $30 million); Waking Up in Reno, with Billy Bob Thornton and Penélope Cruz, made just $262,000. Italian Job was a surprise blockbuster — and the first film to truly take advantage of Theron’s nimbleness as an action star — but her role in the film was still supporting.
Part of the problem, according to Theron, could be traced to an orange gown she wore to the Oscars back in 2000. Formfitting, plunging in the back, and paired with soft finger curls, it prompted comparisons to Jean Harlow, landed her on every best-dressed list, and, for the next three years, became a symbol of what she couldn’t move beyond. As she told the OC Register, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve auditioned for a role, only to have my agent come back and say, ‘Listen, Charlize, they saw you in the orange dress and they don’t think you can do it.’”
“It could be a magazine cover, a movie role or even an orange dress,” Theron continued. “People in this town get stuck on an image and don’t realize that it is the job of an actor to transform.” Put differently: Theron wanted roles that asked her to do more than just be hot, which may have helped her earn her place in Hollywood, but then turned into a cage of her (and her publicists’) own making.
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Charlize Theron at the premiere of Focus Features' "Atomic Blonde" on July 24, 2017.
Gregg Deguire / WireImage
It’s no coincidence that it was a female director who was able to envision Theron as more than the sum of her beautiful parts. That director, Patty Jenkins, was casting for the lead role in Monster, a story based on the real life and death of serial killer Aileen Wuornos. Jenkins screen-tested Kate Winslet, Heather Graham, Brittany Murphy, and Kate Beckinsale. But ever since seeing Theron’s dark turn in The Devil’s Advocate, Jenkins had known she wanted her for the role.
When Jenkins approached her, Theron was confused. “Why me?” she asked. “This stuff doesn’t happen to me…these are usually the things that I have to go out there and sweat blood and kill somebody for.” Jenkins’ reply: “Honestly, I just looked at you, and I looked at everybody else, and I said to myself, ‘I could kick the other actors’ asses. You, I’m not so sure.’”
This aura of toughness, which emerged over and over in the conversations about Monster, would help shift Theron’s career trajectory to its current action-hero apex. It wouldn’t have been possible, however, without Jenkins’ understanding of Theron’s ability — or Theron’s own role in making the film, which became the first undertaking for her production company Denver & Delilah.
Theron would go on to win an Oscar for her performance; afterward, her asking price rose to $10 million per picture. But first, she had to deal with every interviewer obsessing over how a pretty, thin person could possibly be “brave” enough to gain weight and, as it has since become known in the industry, “go ugly.” “Charlize Theron Sacrifices Great Looks for Great Part in Monster,” a typical Vancouver Sun piece exclaimed. “When the first photo stills from Monster were published, no one could believe that Theron … would downplay her ‘greatest asset’ to become a homeless lesbian prostitute and serial killer.”
Theron’s performance was far more than the dental prosthesis, makeup, and weight gain that accompanied it — or the press-ready narrative of “transformation” that became central to the Oscar campaign that coalesced around her. Theron, for her part, did her best to resist that narrative — in part because it equated “looking poor” with bravery, but also because it elided the actual, well, acting. She was particularly annoyed with critics who suggested she decided to “get ugly” without motivation — or without grounding it in the facts of Wuornos’s life. “People were like ‘You better not make Charlize Theron ugly!” Theron told The New Yorker. “Fuck that. I didn’t work on Aileen from the outside in. After I read the writing she did in jail, she was in my body, and I was in hers.”
According to Theron, each aesthetic decision was made with tremendous care: “Her body was the way it was because she had a child at 13,” Theron said in the Denver Post. “She was homeless and ate whenever she could, and usually it was crap ... the way her skin looked, the way her teeth looked, the way her eyes looked — those were all things because of her lifestyle, because she’d been living out in sun and didn’t have a home.”
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Theron in Monster, 2003
Newmarket Releasing / Courtesy Everett Collection