Michaela Watkins can currently be seen playing the title character in the comedy drama Suze, out now in theaters. She was recently seen in the movies Paint, with Owen Wilson, Nicole Holofcener’s You Hurt My Feelings, starring Julia-Louis Dreyfus, and in the mini series Tiny Beautiful Things, opposite Kathryn Hahn, and The Dropout, starring Amanda Seyfried. She famously played the lead role in Hulu’s Casual and her other TV credits include The Unicorn, Catastrophe, Search Party, Get Shorty, Wet Hot American Summer, Transparent, Veep, Enlightened, Modern Family, Children’s Hospital, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Key and Peele, The Kroll Show and Drunk History. Her indie film credits include Lake Bell’s In a World; Joey Soloway’s Afternoon Delight; Brigsby Bear, opposite Kyle Mooney and Greg Kinnear; Brittany Runs a Marathon with Jillian Bell; The Way Back, opposite Ben Affleck; and Wanderlust, opposite Jennifer Aniston and Paul Rudd. (Photo by Catie Laffoon.)
Three Great Things is Talkhouse’s series in which artists tell us about three things they absolutely love. To mark the current release in theaters of the new comedy drama Suze, starring Michaela Watkins, Charlie Gillespie and Sara Waisglass, the beloved comedian and actor shared some of things that bring her the most joy in life. — N.D.
Pottery
The first thing that comes to mind is pottery, specifically working with clay on a wheel, although I would love to do hand-building, too. I like the wheel. It’s very meditative for me, and when I’m doing it, it feels like I am completely connected to the present in a way that other things just don’t. Yes, my mind can wander. And I might have music on in the background, but I almost don’t even want it, because there’s something special about hearing the whirring of the wheel and the sound of the water dripping and squeezing the sponge and pulling up the clay and flapping it around. And then there’s the inevitable, “Ah, shit,” when I fail to achieve the perfection I’ve been shooting for, because the clay doesn’t do the thing I thought it was going to do. I never know if, by continuing to keep working on it, I’m gilding the lily or not. I’m now getting used to being OK with the fact that I’m not good at pottery yet.
I started making pottery probably a year and a half ago, but I didn’t get my own wheel until about eight months ago. I’m still learning, but I now have two wheels at my house and I use them for different things, because one is stronger than the other. I will sit around and dream about pottery, the same way I sit around and dream about doing puzzles in bed on my phone when I get home.
For me, pottery is just so grounding, which is very important for anything creative that I do. I’m not a good actor unless I’m grounded, if I’m not in my body and present with the other person. So I think it does tickle that same sweet spot in both mediums. Acting and pottery are also similar for me, because one of the things that directors have noted about me is that I never do the same take twice. I’m always trying to discover what else is there. And if a director needs me to do a take exactly the same way again, maybe I can, but it just won’t be satisfying to me. And the same is true with pottery, where you’re never going to get the same thing ever, no matter what. That’s what machines and factories are for. But if you want real pottery, what you get is going to be different and wobbly and weird.
The First Finger of Alcohol
I love the feeling I get in my body after one finger’s worth of wine or whiskey. I like whiskeys and bourbons and tequilas and mezcals, and how I feel one finger in is just the best. It’s like all of a sudden my entire outlook lifts. Two fingers in, it can go in different directions and three fingers in is bad for me. (I don’t metabolize great, and I know I’m about to overshare, not sleep and have a headache tomorrow.) But when I’m one finger in, if I could just live in that place, everything that felt insurmountable that day doesn’t feel heavy anymore and any social inhibitions I have just seem to leech away. And then an incredible gratitude overtakes me. I just love that moment.
I only drink socially, so whenever I feel like this, I’m with my friends and feel so grateful that I have wonderful friends and I get to be with them. That we’re not digging a ditch somewhere right now, but sitting in a cozy place having a drink together. And that conviviality of drinking with my friends is so nice to the degree that what I’m drinking doesn’t even have to necessarily be alcoholic. I tried mocktails recently, and just holding the glass with the ice and the beautiful flower essence was also amazing. There’s something about being around a table with people and just feeling all right — chapter break, we’re letting the day go, and now it’s about this.
I have a sort of workhorse mentality, which means I don’t drink unless I feel like I’ve earned it. During the pandemic, when everybody was boozing it up, I didn’t, because I felt like I hadn’t done anything worthy of having a drink at the end of the day. That just felt like devolving into depression. But when I’m working, or when I do anything that feels like it was some form of accomplishment or required effort, then I’ll allow it. I think that’s just my upbringing. I have to earn nice things.
Dog Breath
I’m sure other people have chosen this, but I love dog breath. I don’t like when dogs are panting, but when they slump down and then they sigh and let out that big sweep of air, oh, I love it. And I get a whiff of whatever they had for dinner, it’s the best. The best.
I love dogs, but for a long time, because of my lifestyle as an actor, I could only have cats. When Trump was elected the first time, in 2016, though, I kept saying to my husband, “I wish I had a newborn or something to look after that required a lot of my attention, because I’m looking at my phone and looking at Twitter and all these things are not making me well.” We went to the Humane Society and my husband rounded the corner holding this gorgeous little Disney puppy. It was gold and white and looked like it should be on a bag of Purina puppy chow. Meanwhile, I was looking at a mangy chupacabra. All the other dogs around me were losing their minds barking, and this dog was just so still and looked me right in the eyes. I weaved my little hand into the cage and started to pet him, and he just stared deep into my eyes — while this cacophonous dog mayhem was going on around me. My husband and I both said at the same time, “I found our dog!” He was holding his little puppy and I said, “Yours is much cuter, but that’s not our dog.”
I think my dog Jeff (the chupacabra we adopted that day!) understood the assignment, because he is my guy. He just presses into my body and hugs me like a human. And he protects us. I think he realized he had it real good with us, because now he’s like Brienne of Tarth: “I shall protect you to the end of days!”
A few years later, we got a puppy to keep him company. We learned the hard way that we couldn’t have a terrier (or terrier mix), because he wouldn’t allow it, or a male dog, so we had to get a female. It was during the pandemic, when so many dogs were being adopted. A friend who worked at a pound in West L.A. gave us the kind of puppy that should be on the brochure of this place. She was just gorgeous. She’s an Aussie Shepherd/Husky/Cattle dog mix, and she and Jeff are now inseparable.
