"There's a strong line in American drama of women who walk the borderline between fantasy and reality," Blanchett said, "like Blanche in 'Streetcar' and Mary Tyrone in Eugene O'Neill's 'A Long Day's Journey into Night.' Those are reference points to be drawn upon, which I certainly did. As to whether [the characters are] sympathetic or not, there's a way of looking at that where you can say, 'Is Blanche a compulsive liar? Or is the world just set out to stamp out the poetry in her soul?'"
Now there's a line that could have sprung from the mouth of a certain woe-is-me, self-professed "voice of her generation." Even more than Dunham, Blanchett's formidable chops somehow manage to elicit pity for her character, but viewer sympathy is deeply tested by how she interacts with others. Like Hannah, Jasmine not only exploits people with an almost unconscious wellspring of selfishness ("She never cared about you when she had money," Chili warns Ginger), but also spreads her delusional discontentment like a virus. It's no accident that, as "Girls" has progressed, Marnie (Allison Williams) has continued to inherit the less favorable qualities of her former roommate, and, likewise, after Jasmine rolls into San Fran, her inability to experience peace starts rubbing off on Ginger, who experiments with an affair despite the good man she has at home. The difference is that Ginger retains the wherewithal to bounce back.
"Everyone has issues, and everyone is deluding themselves to some degree," Blanchett said. "Jasmine just does it to a spectacular extent."
Indeed, what "Blue Jasmine" illustrates more than anything else, and what "Girls" presented near the end of its last season, is that denial and the avoidance of mature challenges can severely cripple the psyche. Many loyal fans were alarmed when Hannah was revealed to have a history of OCD, which resurfaced amid the pressure of tackling her first real job, a job she claimed to have always wanted: The writing of an e-book derived from her own material. Hannah started counting her every action, going dangerously deep when cleaning her ears, and revisiting a psychiatrist. What may have seemed like a stretch was in fact a dramatic exaggeration of a plausible millennial meltdown—the spectacular extent, if you will. Though her mother eventually put her foot down, Hannah was raised by enabling parents in the you're-so-special 1990s, and both factors proved as existentially disarming as the recession. Meanwhile, Jasmine, as she exhaustingly reiterates, was "swept off her feet" by Hal in her early twenties, never having to want for anything or lift a finger in her adult life. And though a twist shows just how active Jasmine was in her world-upending rug-pull, the character was already facilitating her own destruction.
"Her flaw is tragic," Blanchett said. "Oedipus, for example, fucks up royally—I mean he marries his mother, for god's sake. But it's a tragedy because he does it unwittingly, and Jasmine is the sort of unwitting agent of her own downfall too. She's on a cocktail of various different things, and that was interesting thing to explore: 'When is she on Xanax? When has she not had a drink?' But I think, in the end, it was the internal cocktail that was really interesting to play. She's so riddled with fear."
And it isn't lost on Blanchett that, right now, that kind of fear has multi-generational relevance. "Even though ['Blue Jasmine'] can seem like the demise or fall from grace of a privileged little rich girl, there's a lot of people who've had a fantasy of what it means to live in America, and that has been blown apart in the last couple of years," the actress said. "So I think there's a lot to relate to for people of all ages, who've had to reshape their economic circumstances in ways forced upon them. They've had to really look at who they are, and what their aspirations are, and what they want, and how they're going to pit themselves against the world now."
As for "Girls," Blanchett claims it's one of her "all-time favorite shows," and if there's a single "Blue Jasmine" scene that typifies both texts' melancholic humor, it's the one in which Jasmine is sitting across a table from Ginger's sons in a restaurant. Looking drunk and bedraggled, and getting grilled by the kids about the rumors they've heard from their mom, Jasmine is spilling her guts about Prozac and electro-shock therapy. The scene is a riot if only for the looks on the kids' faces, but it's also terribly unfortunate, as it soon becomes clear that Jasmine, who could easily be swapped out for Hannah, has less emotional maturity than her preteen nephews. At last, Jasmine levels with the boys, confessing, "There's only so many traumas a person can withstand before they take to the streets and start screaming." Or, ya know, jab their eardrums with Q-Tips.