When Natasha Rothwell set out to create her first TV series, she had no idea the corner she was writing herself into by setting it at JFK. As it turns out, there’s a reason you don’t see any workplace comedies about airports. “Standards and practices sanitized so many logos that I was wondering, ‘Is this going to look like JFK?’ ” she says. “When Hudson News finally agreed to let us show their sign, it was really such a get.”
The red tape for something as simple as using a newsstand storefront is one of many unexpected hurdles in making How to Die Alone, Rothwell’s starring vehicle that premieres Sept. 13 on Hulu — seven years after she initially developed it at HBO. Though she’s written for Saturday Night Live and Insecure, on which her colorful script readings inspired showrunners Issa Rae and Prentice Penny to cast her in the supporting role of Kelli Prenny, this series marks the first time Rothwell’s truly been in charge. “People trusted me in front of the camera,” says Rothwell, who was nominated for an Emmy for her work on The White Lotus and will return for the drama’s upcoming third season, “but co-showrunning and executive producing? I think studio execs were just worried.”
Speaking from her Los Angeles home in late August, the 43-year-old opened up about embracing her body, her voice and her very real desire for industry awards.
The show’s official description refers to your character as a “broke, fat, Black JFK employee.” Do you mind talking about the choice to call her — and you — fat?
I not only approved it, I wrote that slug. For me, it’s important to not let the word “fat” be pejorative. So often, we try to be cagey around that word. We have a moment in the show where my character tells her friend not to call herself fat. Her response is, “Bitch, we both fat! Why are you afraid of that word?” My journey — I won’t call it body positivity, but body neutrality — is about being able to be at peace with my body. It’s coming to terms with the fact that I am fat, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m beautiful and fine as fuck. By putting that word in the description, I want it to make people pause and check their own biases.
How else did you try to accomplish that?
We did a 75-person Zoom with all of the department heads, the crew and Disney’s legal team where we went over the things you don’t say. I told everyone we are not going to have a culture where we’re using this language pejoratively. There’s no saying, “I’m feeling fat today.” It was about allowing people to see all of me and not deny who I am — or who the other people on set are.
This was originally developed for HBO. Were you given a reason why it never went forward there?
I’ve spent many hours that I won’t get back trying to posit what it was. We’re in an era right now where the market is so saturated. I know I’m good, and my work is good, but there are a billion other artists who are equally worthy. I was at HBO with the project for five years. There would be no show without [HBO head of comedy] Amy Gravitt. It’s not customary for studios to let creators bring their projects somewhere else. When my overall deal there ended, she championed my [taking it with me]. She wanted this to see the light of day.
You auditioned as a performer on Saturday Night Live and landed in the writers room instead. What was the biggest learning curve?
Be prolific, not perfect. I’m a recovering perfectionist thanks to a lot of therapy, and there’s nothing perfect about writing sketches on SNL. It’s about producing quantity every week. When I first got there, I was struggling. I was trying to write sketches that I thought would get on, and that’s a mistake. When I started to see success on the show, it was trusting my own voice and volume.
Not having your contract renewed for a second season puts you in good company, but I imagine it was a blow. What was your response?
It was for sure a hiccup! (Laughs.) But I grew up in a time where I did not see anyone who looked like me on the show. So it was never part of my plan. When it entered the narrative, that was a delight and a surprise. When it exited the narrative, it was an interesting, albeit brief, moment of grief. It’s almost like there’s this guy I didn’t know liked me and then he finally asked me out, we dated for a year, and then he was like, “Yeah, no.” OK, I didn’t even like you anyway!
You taught high school drama in the Bronx. There have got to be some good war stories.
OK, I’ll use a pseudonym. I had a student named “John.” All the kids were doing pieces of the Oedipus Rex monologue. He came in and dramatically put his hand on his forehead and proceeded to read the monologue that he had written on his forearm. Every time I tried to get a look, he would pivot with his hand stuck to his forehead. I stepped out of the classroom and started cackling in the hallway. How do you discipline somebody when it’s that funny? Back in the classroom, I called him over to my desk, and I was just like, “Let me see your arm.” He had licked his hand and smeared it off. He looked at me like, “What?”
Do you identify a single job as the turning point for you?
Insecure was massive. I just went to Essence Fest to promote How to Die Alone, and I was walking in and I immediately hear, “Hey, Kelli!” That show has my heart. But so many scripts with bootleg versions of Kelli came across my desk after that. It just made me feel that much more proud of the fact that there was something to that character.
Please tell me that’s subsided.
Yeah, I think the industry realized I’m deliberate about the roles I take. White Lotus also alerted Hollywood at large that I’m ambidextrous as a performer, which allowed the offers to diversify. I can do more than one thing. I don’t just giggle all the time. I contain multitudes, people.
How did your return to White Lotus come together?
When Mike White was finishing up season two, he asked to grab dinner with me. I thought nothing of it. When you spend five months locked down in a hotel with someone, they become your friend. But he was already thinking about season three and wanting to explore her more. I told him I’d follow him anywhere, and I meant it. I didn’t know where the shoot or the storyline were, it was just a yes.
You say people know you’re deliberate in your choices. What else do you want to be known for?
For telling stories and in a way that continues to center marginalized voices. And I want hardware! Listen, it’s not just about trophies for the sake of it. I want to do work worthy of recognition. To me, that means being vulnerable, pulling no punches, working alongside the right people. Iron sharpens iron. I used to be afraid to say those things. It’s not egotistical if it’s actually meaningful.
Issa Rae has spoken at length about the seemingly hollow commitment to DEI that Hollywood made a few years ago — given the DEI executive exodus and apparent decline in POC-made series. How are you processing that?
The marketability and the financial benefit of having diverse voices is just not centered enough. And it’s unfortunate that, when looking at the bottom line, the fiscal solve to budgetary issues is to take a step back from DEI initiatives. It’s definitely been frustrating to experience that shift. In some ways, it answers the question of why it took so long for my show to get made. It’s hard to run with the parachute when so many cis, straight white dudes have wind at their back. The race isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop running.
What does your career look like in five years?
I would love to be wrapping up the fourth and final season of How to Die Alone. I would love to have directed my first feature, starred in my first feature.
And hardware.
And hardware, baby! Hard-fucking-ware. My shelf is empty. Let’s do it!
This story first appeared in the Sept. 11 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.
Source: Hollywoodreporter
