‘Life is a series of small victories’

Haiillee Steiinfelld tallks to Lorraine Ali about her recent rolles as a 19th-century poet and a modern-day superhero.

Powerful young women with strong points of view. Those are the roles Hailee Steinfeld has grown into on screen since her first feature film, when she was nominated at age 14 for an Oscar for her portrayal of the sharp-witted Mattie Ross in the Coen brothers’ True Grit.

She has died as a star-crossed lover in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, romped alongside giant Transformers in the sci-fi film Bumblebee and immersed herself in the dark coming-of-age comedy The Edge of Seventeen. On Steinfeld’s soaring trajectory, no two girls, teens or women are alike.

Now 19th-century poet Emily Dickinson comes alive through Steinfeld in the third and final season of the quirky period dramedy Dickinson (streaming on Apple TV+). A daring look at the poet in her formative 20s, the final instalment of the ambitious series marks the end of a unique production about an enigmatic American icon.

‘‘I probably wouldn’t have understood the depth of Emily, her work or her story without the series, so I’m grateful to this show for serving as an introduction to her. I hope that it does that for others,’’ says Steinfeld, who is also an executive producer on the series.

The 24-year-old actor and singer from Tarzana, Los Angeles, spoke about the challenges of bringing the poet to life, what prepared her for the role and what lies ahead – namely her leap into the Marvel Cinematic Universe as the avenging archer Kate Bishop in the Disney+ superhero series Hawkeye.

You’ll go from the kerosene-lit Dickinson to the billion-watt Hawkeye...

Going from a corset to a superhero suit, not so different.

There are heroic elements to both women.

With something like Hawkeye, where it is this epic, show-stopping, mind-blowing Marvel Cinematic Universe [production], it’s like I still can’t believe I’m in it. It’s so crazy to me. It’s so big. But the character feels so real it didn’t ever not feel that way when we were doing it. That’s something I think I’m ultimately drawn to.

The final season of takes place in the middle of the Civil War, when the characters and country are faced with tragedy, hopelessness and division. Emily and her poetry become a ray of light in the darkness. That had to feel close to the bone, since all 10 episodes were shot mid-pandemic and within months of the January 6 insurrection.

Dickinson

I personally was feeling the hopelessness of the time. And with Emily, I felt she was in a similar situation because she’s really struggling to find how she can be of use to the war effort – and not just the war in the country, but in her family. I was like, ‘‘In what way, shape or form can I do something?’’ This season served as a lesson and a

reminder that Emily didn’t necessarily have to be on the front lines to help and to make change and to make a difference and to bring light into people’s world.

Emily was a private person, and what we know of her today is largely extrapolated from her writing. Did that ambiguity afford you freedom as a performer?

It was intimidating at first, but mostly because I was not able to personally understand the poetry. I was initially frustrated by that. I didn’t get her poems from the first read, but I loved the fact that they kept me coming back, desperately trying to understand. A three-line poem had me up for days. At the beginning, I was like, ‘‘This is the worst thing ever. How am I ever going to get to the bottom of this and break this down and feel connected to it?’’ But it kept me coming back, and I loved that. The poetry is the reason we’re able to make this show.

Some folks were upset though that the show infused 19th-century characters with contemporary attributes.

It was one of the things I loved about it when I read the first two episodes of Season 1. It was like, ‘‘What fun! Who’s to say they didn’t speak like this?’’ They got angry. They curse. Maybe they had different words or different terminology, but whatever. They were human!

Are you as comfortable moving between the genres of comedy and drama as you are with moving between time periods on screen?

When I auditioned for the Coen brothers, I had been preparing myself for weeks. I really dug in while I could in the hopes of getting called back. I had auditioned twice before I read and went in with the utmost determination and willpower. But as I was doing the scene that was rather serious, these two were laughing. And I’m thinking to myself, this is not supposed to be funny.

I remember looking back, at a point when I was old enough to understand where the humour comes from, and a lot of it is in the tragedy of the situation or the circumstance. It was a moment where I was like, ‘‘Wow, I guess I just have, like, comedic timing’’.

But you’re also a pop star in your own right, from the Pitch Perfect franchise to two EPs of your own and appearing in videos with Taylor Swift and Kendrick Lamar.

Singing has always been a thing. Like most 7-year-olds, I couldn’t sink my teeth into anything longer than a few weeks. I would wake up one day, and it was ballet. I’d wake up a month later, it was basketball, then horseback riding. My parents were always so lovely and supportive. They would buy the lessons and the gear and get me all set up, and that was what it was – until it wasn’t.

They probably thought it was a mistake when they bought me an amplifier and a microphone. I would sing in front of the mirror. It was the idea of entertaining and being a performer that was of interest to me. Then I had a cousin who was in commercials, and I was like, ‘‘I want to be in commercials!’’ And from there it went.

Do you know what comes next?

It’s rare that I know what I’m doing before doing it. And if I do, I’m not looking at the next 10 years of my life. It’s one step at a time. I’ve had moments in my career where I have felt like,

‘‘Oh, my God, I must be doing something right, this is what makes me happy!’’

I have moments where I’m on set, where I’m in the middle of a magic take that’s so wonderful that I can’t even describe what happened that day. It’s wild and feels unpredictable, inconsistent. But to chase those moments doesn’t make sense.

I think life is a series of small victories, and I love to acknowledge those, if and when I can, whether it’s for me or people around me. But on the flip side, I’ve had moments of like, ‘‘Wow, I need to reconsider’’, because, much like anything else, it gets to be overwhelming. But I do ultimately feel like I’m in the right place, and I thank God that I landed on something I love.

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Season 3 of Dickinson is now streaming on Apple TV+. Hawkeye begins streaming on

Disney+ on Thursday.