As I step into the hotel room to chat with Kate Hudson, the first voice I hear is that of her 21-year-old son, Ryder, speaking over the phone: “Love you, Mum!”
Doesn’t everyone? One doesn’t need to be connected to Hudson to view her as a delightful prospect – a wonderful actress yet to appear in a truly great film. A quarter-century has passed since her breakout role in Almost Famous, where she demonstrated her ability to elevate a film from mediocrity while making it seem as easy as drying her hair. Without her portrayal of Penny Lane, the rock’n’roll muse who refers to herself as a “band-aid” instead of a groupie, Cameron Crowe’s lackluster homage to his 1970s youth would have been Almost Forgettable.
Her energy was the driving force behind that film, and her image alone fueled its marketing, making it appropriate that Hudson, then merely 21, received an Oscar nomination. The following years were filled with a stream of romcoms, including How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and Bride Wars, both of which were enormous successes despite their tone of underlying resentment. There were dramatic roles that were largely ignored (The Killer Inside Me, The Reluctant Fundamentalist), cringe-worthy flops (the tearjerker A Little Bit of Heaven, Sia’s offensive autism film Music) and the occasional bright comeback, like Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery, where Hudson excelled as a dim-witted fashion designer prone to comedic blunders.
Now at 46, she has recently earned a Golden Globe nomination and likely has another Oscar nomination coming. This time, it’s for a film rich in music: Song Sung Blue, a true underdog love story inspired by the 2008 documentary of the same name. Hudson plays Claire Sardina, known as Thunder, who starts a Neil Diamond tribute band with her husband, Mike (Hugh Jackman), the Lightning counterpart of the pair. The first part of the movie, showcasing how Claire and Mike transition from musical partners to romantic ones, is delightfully eccentric. The latter part includes more heart-wrenching turns than a somber country song. Throughout it, Hudson shines as a symbol of strength, compassion, and sensitivity.
Today, dressed entirely in black with sleek, shiny blond hair, she appears at ease, albeit somewhat distracted. “Should I consume this if it was already opened?” she muses, examining the packet that accompanied her tea. “Do you think someone tampered with this?” Regardless, she pours the contents into her cup. “Fast forward to the end of the interview, and I’m, like, on the floor …”
Hudson is also mindful of what she and her son are up to later that night. “We’re going to catch Radiohead. I’m thrilled!” The last time she saw them perform live, she was the same age as Ryder: it was October 2000, Almost Famous had just premiered in the US, and the avant-garde group from Oxford was the musical guest on Saturday Night Live, which she was hosting. Hudson shed her clothing to reveal the phrase “Radiohead is here” painted on her bikini-covered body, along with flowers and peace symbols. To the beat of upbeat music, she danced energetically while the camera rapidly zoomed in and out.
The entire spectacle referenced Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In, the exuberant late-1960s comedy series that propelled her mother, Goldie Hawn, to fame, often seen indulging in playful antics in swimwear and body paint. That SNL moment was also an early recognition, should it have been necessary, that Hudson faced a challenge in stepping out of her mother’s significant shadow.
Hawn remains an omnipresent figure in this London hotel room. It marks her 80th birthday, and Hudson has chosen to forgo the celebrations back home to promote Song Sung Blue. At least she can feel a symbolic connection to her mother by being in the city where it all began. “It’s fantastic that I was conceived in London,” she reflects, disregarding the afternoon drizzle tapping against the window. Conception took place in Regent’s Park, about a mile from our current location. “Not in the actual park. That would be a far more interesting story. It was in an apartment my mom was renting. I’m sure she recalls which one.”
Her parents – Hawn was wed to musician Bill Hudson – separated when she was just 18 months and her brother Oliver was four. Their stepfather, actor Kurt Russell, who has been with their mother for over four decades, is the figure they affectionately call “Pa”. When asked last year about her connection with her biological father, who criticized her as “spoiled” in his memoir but played a minimal role in her life, Hudson remarked: “I don’t really have one.” She later amended her statement: “It’s improving.”
Music has been a constant thread weaving through her life and career. Bill Hudson was a part of the Hudson Brothers, who were teen idols during much of the 1970s under Elton John’s record label. Hawn released a country-flavored album, Goldie, in 1972. All three of Hudson’s children have fathers who are musicians: Ryder’s dad, and Hudson’s first and only husband thus far, is Chris Robinson from the Black Crowes; her second son Bingham, now 14, is with Matt Bellamy from Muse; and her current fiancé, Danny Fujikawa, a former member of the LA band Chief, is the father of her seven-year-old daughter Rani.
Hudson has performed songs on screen several times before, most notably in a boozy duet with Matthew McConaughey of Carly Simon’s You’re So Vain in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and her captivating number in Nine, where she sings Cinema Italiano while strutting along a catwalk in sparkly boots. “WHY hasn’t a musical been crafted for Kate Hudson?” one YouTube commenter reasonably inquired.
Song Sung Blue presents something different. The Neil Diamond songs are intricately connected to Hudson’s portrayal: she’s singing authentically, channeling Sardina’s sorrow, longing, and resilience through the music. “In the studio, I’d discover these harmonies on my own and create my own vocal embellishments,” she shares proudly. Director Craig Brewer supported her creative instincts. “I’d ask, ‘But Craig, is this truly Claire?’ And he’d respond, ‘It is now!’” That freedom might not have been available had she adhered too closely to the real Sardina, whom she met only during the film’s production. “By that time, my interpretation of Claire was already ingrained in me. But it was beneficial to have her around to inquire, ‘Did this part really happen as depicted?’”
Hudson’s vocal work in the film displays more genuine passion than anything found on her own self-indulgent debut album, Glorious, released last year. It was during an appearance on U.S. television promoting the album that Hugh Jackman noticed her. “Hugh saw me being interviewed, where I expressed how much I had to be singing and writing music, and he thought: ‘She must be Claire.’” It makes sense. It’s that desire to perform that motivates Sardina as life throws her unexpected challenges. “I understand what it’s like to cherish something so intensely that the thought of losing it is unbearable,” Hudson mentions.
She might not have pursued Glorious initially if it weren’t for Paul McCartney. “I was watching him headline Glastonbury on his 80th birthday while off to the side of the stage.” The tale culminates in an awakening. “I woke up the following morning feeling incredibly emotional. I realized, ‘I’m not satisfied with what I’ve produced!’ I have enormous gratitude, but I’m not just an actress. Music has been part of my life forever, and I lacked the courage to act on it. I resolved to take more risks. I want to embrace failure more.” Perhaps she won’t be overly hurt that the Times labeled Glorious as “the very essence of a vanity project.”
Witnessing McCartney prompted her to reflect on “those who compromise versus those who don’t. I contemplated being a woman in this industry and all the compromises one makes for others. I’ve succeeded in comedies but still feel like I’m constantly being made to compromise.”
Not that she has anything against romcoms. “You know what? They’re my favorites. I adore them and will never cease making them. I just believe they need improvement. When you strive to create a fantastic one, you face numerous hurdles due to algorithms. I feel they’ve diluted the romcom. The ones I adored were crafted by the best talents. Nora Ephron, Jim [James L] Brooks: those classics endure forever. They’re like comfort blankets.”
Other films resemble a torturous experience. Consider The Killer Inside Me, a disturbingly faithful adaptation of Jim Thompson’s noir novel featuring a psychopathic deputy sheriff portrayed by Hudson’s longtime friend Casey Affleck. It was Affleck and British director Michael Winterbottom who urged her to take the part of the killer’s fiancée, which includes scenes of her being spanked. For real, as she confirmed back in 2010: “I felt a couple of slaps where I thought: God, Casey! He really went for it.” Prior to her character’s murder, she is spat upon and struck in the stomach. It’s a controversial film but hardly reflects a tendency to compromise.
“That demanded different abilities,” she explains now. “I didn’t pursue acting to settle for just one role.” Affleck hinted that his then-wife was not a fan of the film. What did Hudson hear about it? “Oh, it was fine. It was such a tiny project.” Suggesting, likely, that it went unnoticed by many. I confess to her that I appreciate it, yet I never wish to see it again. “That’s exactly how I felt,” she agrees.
She claims to ignore all reactions to her, whether positive or negative. “It all fits into what Kurt labels ‘noise’. His rule is just: deliver excellent work.” Presumably, this applies to all the Academy Award gossip as well. “That’s pleasant noise,” she admits. When I inquire about how often she checks Variety’s up-to-date Oscar forecasts, should I pull them up on my phone? “No, please don’t!” she exclaims, clearly shaken. “I can’t even manage it.” I hold back from informing her that Jessie Buckley is currently favored to win the accolade for Hamnet. Where Buckley’s portrayal of Shakespeare’s wife, mourning the loss of their young son, is measured and purposefully raw, Hudson’s performance in Song Sung Blue has a seamless flow. It feels more like real life than mere acting.
Nomination or not, she has plenty to keep her occupied, including Sibling Revelry, the family-oriented podcast she co-hosts with her brother Oliver. The guest list varies from A-list (Michelle Obama and the occasional Kardashian) to niche, such as the “psychic medium” John Edward. He was somewhat earnestly entertained for two hour-long segments, encouraged by Hawn, who has her own experiences with psychics; and Oliver, a talkative occasional actor who swears by consulting oracles before accepting roles. It’s safe to say this does not cast a favorable light on the oracles.
Hudson isn’t much into the mystical. “Psychic readings are entertaining,” she remarks. “But I take them with a pinch of salt.” In a recent episode, a doctor diagnosed the siblings with ADHD live, who seemed somewhat unclear about who he was addressing; at one point, he confused Oliver with Hudson’s partner. Was that a legitimate diagnosis? “Oh yes, definitely real.” She describes it as “validating. I’ve spent a lifetime figuring out how to better organize my life, and now I feel equipped with the tools.” She differentiates their diagnosis from what she refers to as the general ADHD of the world: “the type attributed to phones. What we have is the genuine article.”
Her future aim for the podcast is to interview more directors. Flipping the script on me, she inquires: “What type of interviews do you prefer? Who has been your favorite?” Then she playfully flutters her eyelashes. “Apart from me, of course.” However, the interview experience with Hudson is brief as time runs out, and Radiohead is awaiting her. Regarding her career: here’s hoping for more excitement and unexpected twists, please.
Song Sung Blue is in UK cinemas starting 1 January
