‘I’ve told my truth’

Brooke Shields tells Ashley Spencer she is more focused and confident at 56.

Brooke Shields can’t stomach Squid Game. The previews alone signalled to the 56-yearold that watching the violent survival drama ‘‘would not be healthy for me’’. Even bingeing the bawdy Sex Education can be a bit much for her at times. Instead, she longs for cosy viewing escapes, like the upcoming Christmas rom-com she stars in and executiveproduced for the Netflix crowd who, like herself, simply wants to live, laugh, love this season.

‘‘If I could, I would be doing rom-coms and sitcoms 24/7,’’ she says during a recent video call from her home in New York.

‘‘To me, that is my happy place.’’

During the height of the pandemic last year, Shields journeyed to Scotland to film

A Castle for Christmas, the aforementioned Netflix film directed by Mary Lambert, which is now streaming. In it, Shields plays a celebrated author who travels to Europe to purchase a castle and ends up meeting a romantic lead in the form of a crotchety Scotsman, played by The Princess Bride star Cary Elwes. It’s a pure comfort watch, and a rare film centred on a woman over 50.

‘‘There’s this whole era that I’m walking into, and I’m seeing it out there being less represented. You go from Gen whatever to Depends,’’ Shields says of the lack of roles for women who are not ready to be relegated to supporting grandmother roles. ‘‘Why is menopause just associated with being crusty and old and dried up? I am better now than I was ever before. I’m more focused and more confident. I feel sexier. I understand my body more. I’m fitter.’’

But despite Shields’ proclivity for feel-good fare and her generally perky demeanour, the actress is ‘‘not all Pollyanna’’, stressed Lambert, who is best known for directing the 1989 horror flick Pet Sematary. ‘‘She’s got a dark, crazy sense of humour. She can talk trash like the best of them.’’

Shields’ unconventional life has been breathlessly documented. Born and raised in New York City, she is the product of Teri, a socialite and model, and Francis, a businessman, who separated after just a few months of marriage when Brooke was still a baby. At the age of 11 months, or ‘‘zero’’ as Shields jokes, she began modelling before landing her first major film at 11 years old, playing a child sex worker and appearing nude on screen in Louis Malle’s

Pretty Baby. By 14, she was in the primal island romance The Blue Lagoon. At 15, she fronted a Calvin Klein ad campaign, positing in one famous spot, ‘‘You wanna know what comes between me and my Calvins? Nothing’’. And at 16, she starred in the initially X-rated Endless Love.

Simultaneously hyperinfantilised and -sexualised, a young Shields was the object of the world’s fascination. But while America couldn’t stop staring at her, Shields began avoiding her own reflection, dodging mirrors in fear of becoming too vain.

‘‘It felt very arbitrary,’’ she said of the attention on her looks. ‘‘I didn’t want to focus on something that I, at that time, didn’t have any control over.’’

Of course, no child star becomes a child star on their own. Shields’ mother was an early ‘‘momager’’ and the driving force behind propelling her into adult situations and controversial roles. And yet, Shields has defended Teri and credits her with protecting the young star from the worst of the industry.

‘‘I would be a figment of people’s imagination at this point if she didn’t guard me and keep me away from every potential Me Too moment, every piranha that was out there waiting to get their teeth into this young blood,’’ she said.

Shields sees her teen self as ‘‘the first reality star’’, a commercial brand that, while aspirational, was largely rooted in relatability and access. The media reported on her first period. Her trips to the orthodontist. Her virginity.

To control the narrative, Shields (and her mum) decided to routinely offer up information and answer everyone’s questions directly and in ample detail.

‘‘There’s always been a sense of entitlement about me. And part of it is because I put a lot out there, so that I’m doing it first,’’ she said. ‘‘Then you can say what you want and there’s speculation, but I’ve told my truth. That’s also why I write books.’’ Those tomes include 1978’s The Brooke Book, released when she was just 12; her 2005 book about her struggles with postpartum depression; and her 2014 memoir about her complicated relationship with her mother, who was a lifelong alcoholic and died of a dementiarelated illness in 2012. (Shields’ father died in 2003 following a battle with prostate cancer.)

Rather than become a recluse after her early overexposure, she’s stubbornly stayed in the spotlight for more than five decades, updating the world on each chapter of her story as it unfolded. We’ve heard about her marriage proposals from Michael Jackson and her ‘‘dates’’ with George Michael. Her time at Princeton University, where she immersed herself in romance languages and lost her virginity to Dean Cain. That her two-year marriage to Andre Agassi crumbled in part due to his crystal meth addiction. And we watched her perform on Broadway in musicals including Cabaret and Chicago, earn Golden Globe nominations for her starring role in Suddenly Susan and return to the small screen in Lipstick Jungle,

Hannah Montana, The Middle, Jane the Virgin and more.

For much of her life, Shields assumed people would hate her on sight. She learnt to not take up all the space in the room with her inherent glow and charm and to knock herself down with self-deprecating jabs before anyone else could.

‘‘I had to disarm people so they weren’t out-of-the-gate against me or jealous or threatened. You point out your flaws so that they aren’t intimidated. It’s a selfpreservation tactic,’’ she says. And, for a long time, it worked. ‘‘Then, at a certain point, it doesn’t behoove you. You start hearing that tape in your head, and you belittle yourself when it doesn’t really serve you.’’

Becoming a mum to Rowan, now 18, and Grier, 15, made it clear she didn’t want her daughters to fall into a similar pattern. ‘‘Humility can be dangerous,’’ she says. ‘‘I think empathy and respect are better words.’’ Her 20-year marriage to their father, comedy writer and producer Chris Henchy, has also been key in keeping her balanced. When she spirals down a rabbit hole of stress or worry, he tells her ‘‘FOFO’’, a dad-ism for ‘‘find out before you freak out’’, and pulls her back out.

Shields has no plans to shrink away from the spotlight. She has more potential Netflix rom-coms in development, as well as ideas for a possible series.

‘‘I’ve never been at this much of a pivot and a new chapter in my life,’’ she says. ‘‘But when something frightens me, that’s when I go deeper. That’s just always been who I am.’’