Spoilers follow for the second season of Poker Face through finale, “The End of the Road,” which premiered on Peacock on July 10.
When Patti Harrison first shows up in Poker Face, it’s with what protagonist Charlie Cale (Natasha Lyonne) describes as “kid-sister, golden-retriever energy.” Harrison’s Alex offers Charlie a patently disgusting butterscotch-pumpkin-mochaccino coffee, but the comedian and actress puts so much awkward peppiness and sincere kindness into her character that you hope Charlie will take Alex under her wing. But just like I Think You Should Leave, Harrison’s breakout, fooled us by having her play many characters struggling to transport and set up tables, Poker Face fooled us by having Harrison pull double duty, too. Because Alex is actually the Iguana, the world’s best assassin, and her friendship with Charlie was all a farce to get closer to mob informant Beatrix Hasp (Rhea Perlman), whom the Iguana/Alex assassinates in season finale, “The End of the Road.” With her successful deception, the Iguana shatters who Charlie thought she was, then disappears — a cliffhanger to potentially be picked up in Poker Face’s third season, if it were to be renewed.
Harrison is a recognizable alt-comedy face, and her supporting roles in projects like Shrill, The Lost City, and Theater Camp cater to her particular brand of absurd, defensive-yet-aggressive oddness. Poker Face is a break from that, an opportunity for Harrison to play the extremes of supportive best friend and murderous villain, and she nails both sides of the equation. When talking about her time on Poker Face — characteristically peppered with jokes, tangents, and self-deprecating asides — she refers to the series more than once as a movie, in a complimentary way: “They’re so cinematic, and the scale of it is so cool,” Harrison says of the four episodes she appeared in this season. “But it’s a TV show, and I need to accept that.”
How did the role of the Iguana come to you?
The first season, I auditioned, and I remember being really embarrassed and feeling like I had dropped the ball. The audition was from the very first episode, the impetus of the show, where Charlie Cale’s friend gets murdered. I had to be hysterically crying, but I was filming it in such a violently overcomplicated way. I was self-taping on my laptop, using GarageBand to record my own voice back to me reading the other lines in the scene, with my arm out of frame, tapping the spacebar to play the sound when I was done saying my own lines. It just felt so stupid when I was done with it; I was like, “Dang, I didn’t do a good job.” And then I didn’t hear back for like, a couple of years. I’m just not good at self-taping and auditioning. I would dare say in most cases, I’m bad at acting. [Laughs.] On this show, I’m proud of the work that I did, but I think they were really fucked up and stupid to give me a chance, and they’ll go to Hell for that.
I got an email that said I received an offer to play this part. Natasha directed an episode of Shrill, and that show was so fun to shoot. On Poker Face, it truly is a dream role, the kind of role I’ve been wanting to do since I was a baby and signed by UTA for having such an amazing body, when I was about 4 months old. They were like, “Whoa, you’ve had nothing done.” I know I’m making a lot of jokes, but I genuinely always wanted to play a very kind of earnest character that then turns into an assassin. When I read that, I got a nosebleed, my butt bled, my ears bled, in pure joy and shock.
The last two episodes of the season and the reveal that your character is the world’s deadliest assassin are a play on The Day of the Jackal. Did you watch that for inspiration, or did you do your own thing?
I already said I’m a bad actor, and I feel reluctant to say more incriminating things about my lack of work ethic and general will to live. But there were so many reference points for Natasha. She’s like an encyclopedia for film and TV references; she’s got an ingenious amount of visual things she’s pulling from. They all do — Rian Johnson, his cinematography and storytelling, is very exciting and reinvigorating. We had a lot of discussions beforehand, breaking down the arc for the character. Showrunner Tony Tost was truly an angel, and everyone on board were such freak-ass nerds about TV and cinema, and were so excited to share all these reference points with me, like Colombo. For my story arc specifically, they were like, We really want the turn of this character to be so gutting, and a pivot into this weird, spicier character that can also have lateral space to be funny. They gave me a lot of creative freedom, which was awesome and horrifying.
That turn occurs during this talky, tense scene between you and Natasha in Beatrix Hasp’s house in Indiana, where you’re explaining your backstory and boasting about successfully lying to Charlie. What do you remember about filming that?
The house was built on a stage, and they showed me all these visual references for the color palette. We had a full rehearsal where Natasha gave me a lot of space to improvise and pitch where we would be moving. It was really important that however we were moving around the room could accommodate the camera moves that were also integrated into the story and into the flashbacks. My character is recounting these other moments where she’s assassinated people, and her own grief over how her joy of killing had capped, and a lot of the camera movements were to create this blending and surreal switching [between those memories and the present]. And that had to tie in physically with how we were moving in the scene. It was so impressive, the amount of mapping — literally, how far apart we are at this word, and then this word, and then this word. How that was practically coordinated by the camera team was amazing. I was really intimidated. I don’t have good spatial awareness or kinesthetic awareness, and I was afraid to bump into something, or do something in one take and then forget that I did that. But that’s why we have our gorgeous script coordinator, Chris Freyer. I’m not sexually harassing him. I’m not like that anymore. I’ve changed.
In the finale, you and Charlie have a big Thelma & Louise–evoking moment where you jump over the Grand Canyon, and in your flashbacks, you’re fighting and killing people. How much stuntwork were you doing yourself?
The stunts were my favorite part of the entire shoot, because I’ve never really gotten to do that before. The stunt team, stunt coordinator Thomas Place, Natasha’s stunt double Becca GT, and my personal stunt double Noelle Therese Mulligan, were so open. They knew that I wanted to do stunts and were hand-holding me through. I didn’t have to jump off anything, but the gym fight scene — shooting that was actually the first time I’d sweat that much in a gym. I got to flip my body onto a mat, and I had to be grabbed and thrown into the weight rack, and I had to do a flip, and then I had to immediately roll off. Method Man, Clifford Smith Jr., he’s an incredible actor. When we would be rehearsing, he would make himself cry. Y’all know my ass is using the tear stick, and there’s no shame in that. [Laughs.]
There were times I felt nervous, like the scene we shot in a bathroom. They were showing me how to kick the other actor, Kevin Makely, in the nuts to make it look hard but not actually hurt him, and I also had to slash him with this knife. It was a metal knife, but it wasn’t sharpened. But I was mortified, thinking, I know I will find a way to make this pierce this other person. And knowing my luck, because I’m not supposed to hurt his genitals, I’ll somehow stab the knife through his genitals, even though that’s not called for in any way in the scene. And it didn’t happen! So I guess I’m a better actor than anyone could have ever imagined.
There are two physical moments that made me laugh a lot: when you kiss the polar bear that you have wrestled and killed and made into a rug for your house, and when you flick your tongue in the car while escaping from the FBI. Were those scripted?
They were not scripted, but they were both Natasha. We did a bunch of different versions. I was trying to imagine different kinds of lizards, or trying to imagine my mom’s creepy ex-boyfriend, how he flicked his tongue. It was very particular, because the camera was so tight in [my face]. We went big and then we dialed it down, to be more subtle, and not be so over the top and doing some sort of crazy Pokémon thing.
In the final act of “The End of the Road,” after you’ve crashed Charlie’s Barracuda by driving it off the cliff, we see that you’re not in the burning car, which leaves the possibility of you coming back. What do you think the Iguana would be doing after she escapes?
Realistically, she probably slinked into the grass, or she jumped out of the car in time. I haven’t seen the episode. I’m protesting watching it, because I wanted my character to stay good the whole time and actually open up her own sort of bakery and boutique where she sells really expensive soap. But they’re like, “No, she’s got to be an assassin.” And I was like, “Fuck this shit! There’s so much bad in the world, let’s write someone that’s good, and makes verbena and lavender candles that cost $150.”
She theoretically could still do this, with a Fight Club soap-making enterprise in her future.
[Laughs.] That is so generous of you. You have a glass-half-full mentality about the arts, and that’s really beautiful. If I could have it my way, we see the burning car, we’re like, “Where is she?” We go back to Charlie realizing that she’s gone. We see that the burning car is empty. But then the camera pans over and you see Alex on fire, and then you watch her die in real time, and she’s screaming and rolling around. Did you ever see Child’s Play, when they put Chucky in the fireplace and he comes out, and his little flaming body is running all around? That’s what I would want it to be like.
I’m sure you hear this all the time, but “are we even going to get anything this year?” from I Think You Should Leave is quoted constantly in my home.
Well, I hate to be a stone-cold psychopath sociopath bitch, but I will say the quote is, “Are we even gonna get anything now?” You and your family, I’m taking your ass to court!
Please do. We probably deserve it.
I Think You Should Leave is the thing I get recognized for the most in the wild. When it first happened, I would say people who followed my work were mostly nonbinary, autistic, transgender teenagers who are very quiet. If they saw me in the street, they might not say “Hi.” Then after I Think You Should Leave, it opened up this demographic of men that would yell at me on the street. Being transgender, if I see a straight man beeline toward me, I was like, “This guy’s gonna drop my ass. This guy’s gonna hate-crime me.” And then they show up and they’re like, “I love the fucking show, dude. It’s fucking sick. Me and my girlfriend talk about it all the time.” And I’m like, “Oh, so you have a girlfriend? Then why the hell are you even talking to me, then?”
I Think You Should Leave is one of my proudest things I’ve ever gotten to work on. I love Tim and Zach so much. When people recognize me, it’s always good-spirited. That feels really good, versus people remembering me for the crimes that I did in my past.
Is there anything you can tell me about an upcoming season?
It’s not for me to say. But I think who does know, and who is allowed to talk about it, is Jesus, and he can only be reached through prayer.
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“When I read that, I got a nosebleed, my butt bled, my ears bled, in pure joy and shock.”
