Hargitay Mariska - Directors Cut My Life in Film

Mariska Hargitay and me at her wedding to Peter Hermann, laughing when
I told her I played Cupid by introducing them on the set of Law & Order: SVU.

When Ted directs, he brings that passion to every frame. He engages his entire being in the act of creating. Ted often looks like hes performing an opera, with his keen eyes, full of vitality, glued to the monitor, his entire body acting out the emotions of the scene, almost as if hes an instrument being played by the actors. When he calls action, he doesnt just say it, he challenges the actors with a forcefulness I rarely hear from other directors: Ac-TION! Do your best and I will be there with you along the way, so give it everything youve got. We were shooting a television show, but with Ted we always felt like we were shooting a feature.

Most directors shoot scenes with a master shot, then cover the scene from various angles. But this classic approach doesnt apply to Ted; he demands more freedom, more artistic space for the boldness of his vision. Teds uniqueness was never more evident than when he directed the 2005 SVU episode 911 in which Benson is on the phone with a kidnapped girl being held in a basement waiting for help to arrive for the entire episode. Id faced challenging scripts before, but this one raised the bar, and it was an opportunity to create something with an artist who I had come to see was unlike anyone else. And so Ted and I went to work.

I had the sense that Ted already shot the episode in his head, yet his creativity on the set felt like a flurry of improvisation. Frenetically even frantically he would shout, Give me the fifth line now! Great! Now I need the twelfth line! After you deliver it, Im going to whirl the camera around and be on top of your head! He was editing with the camera as he worked, one dramatic shot following on the heels of the next, demanding that I be emotionally prepared at every juncture. It was exhilarating.

One of the most remarkable aspects of that shoot was that although Ted gave me an abundance of ideas, he cherished and respected each one of mine. While he insisted on realizing the vision he had in his head, he remained a true collaborator. Ive always thought that the Emmy I was honored to win for the episode belonged as much on Teds mantle as it did on mine.

I want to reiterate just how extraordinary and delightful Teds spirit of collaboration is. A fierce, bold, lion of a man, uncommonly articulate, with a wealth of experience and a portfolio of cinematic knowledge few can claim, can be more than a bit intimidating. Yet, in a room full of good ideas, if you offered Ted something that was, in his judgment, the best idea, his whole being would catch fire. His eyes would light up and he would say, in his inimitable rat-tat-tat, Yes... yes... yes! Lets do it that way! There was no possessiveness in his creativity, no tight-fistedness about where the magic came from, as long as thats what everybody was committed to mining from themselves and each other.

This was a huge lesson for me when I was given the chance to direct my first episode of SVU in March 2014. I was more than nervous; I was plain scared. When I called Ted and confided my fears, he told me something that not only got me through the episode, but went in my file of best pieces of advice I ever received: Mariska, you know more than you think you know. And his support didnt stop there. Like a true mentor, he made my success a priority in his life. He discussed the script with me for hours, a deep, creative exchange of ideas in which he shared his perceptions about the material, delving into psychology and drawing from his own experiences to illuminate his points. His generosity was absolute. He had already given me so much over the years, and now was giving even more. In that moment, I felt not only deep gratitude, but deep joy for his children that they had this magnificent teacher for a father. And I must say, there is probably no greater testament to Ted, and his wife, my dear Laifun, than Alexandra and Thomas. Beyond being enormously accomplished in their respective fields, documentary filmmaking for Alexandra, classical music composition for Thomas, I am struck each time I see them how wonderfully and thoroughly alive they are, how deeply they are engaged in their craft and the world. And to see Ted talk about them is to see joy itself.

A few weeks after hugging Ted at the end of his farewell dinner and telling him goodbye for now, I wrote him this letter:

Dear Ted,

I was going to give you a toast at your dinner and Im sorry that I didnt. But as the moment approached, I realized it would have been a situation involving way too much Kleenex, so I thought I should write to you instead. What I want to say is simple: thank you. Thank you for being the artist that you are. I think one of the most difficult things as an artist, and as a person in general, is to listen to your own voice, to march to your own drum, to insist on your own vision. You are an inspiration and a leader in that regard. I think that the most beautiful thing about your insistence on your voice and your vision is that you help other people find theirs. You open up a space for them to be the unique artists they are. You teach them how to claim that room for themselves. You make them stronger, better, braver. Most of the time I dont even think you knew you were doing it. You were just being you. And I certainly dont think that you know how much of that you have done for me in my life. So more than anything, I think that is a gift you have given me, an understanding of the beauty of being a true original, bold and defiant, and true to your vision. Im sure youre not surprised to hear that it is not the same without you here on the show, but your singular, beautiful imprint is everywhere and on everything we do every day. I miss you immensely, and I am forever grateful.