Last fall, Sally Field turned 70. Her celebration of choice? A starring role in the most controversial play of the season. In the director Sam Gold’s production of Tennessee William’s The Glass Menagerie, Field plays Amanda Wingfield, a role she’s taken on before, though never quite like this. On a recent afternoon, Field, who progressed from teen sitcoms (Gidget, The Flying Nun) to serious films (Norma Rae, Places in the Heart) and recently to theater, sat in a backstage room to discuss her career.

Why did you want to go back to The Glass Menagerie?

It’s a very complicated role, a classic. It withstands many examinations. This production is incredibly volatile and emotional and raw. The other one was much more careful, and contained, and, oh, it was kind of cautious. And this, really, is not that. I think it disturbs a lot of people. It examines more intimately, almost on a naked, raw level, these emotions.

I think that when most people hear the term ‘memory play’, they think gauzy, they think sepia-toned.

Memory stays raw and it stays hurtful. As time goes on, it probably digs in and festers more deeply. Certainly childhood memories or young adult memories, the ones that really ride you and fester and make you who you are, they don’t come at you in calm, sepia tones.

Can you describe Amanda? Is she a nurturer or a monster?

I have no definition of her. It’s not my job. I think she’s like every mother. Even with your best intentions, you are never perfect. You’re damaging, and you’re also nurturing. You’re all those things. The best thing that you can do, on the other side of it, when the children are all grown, is to say, “Tell me what you feel I’ve done that really haunts you and cripples you and let’s see if I can see it myself and apologize.”

Has this process made you think about your own experiences as a mother?

I think about it anyway. Absolutely. Constantly. I mean, my children and my grandchildren, they are my existence. I’m not married; I’m not the kind of person that has a life separate from them. That’s my family. That’s my everything.

At this point in your career, what’s the most fun: theater, film or television?

Everybody always says the word “fun”. “Fun” I find to be a very thin word. Work is so much more meaningful than fun. Joyousness might be part of it. Stage is the most impactful because it’s so hard and so real and so there and so present, you don’t have the luxury to be hidden behind the protection of film and television. It’s always been the most rigorous.

You came to theater late. Was switching from television a challenge?

I started so young and was sucked up in television and then it took a long time to get out of television. I was raising children and I couldn’t pull them up and say: “We’re going to New York for a while, kids.” I couldn’t get here on a permanent level until now.

Are the roles you’re offered now as varied as you’d like?

I never felt that I had very many choices. Ever. It’s always been a tremendous struggle to find something that I wanted to do and also at the same time, earlier on in my life, to be able to support my children.

You were typecast for quite some time.

Well, yeah, I started in situation-type comedies in the 60s. I really had to claw my way out. Films didn’t want anything to do with television. They weren’t making any movies with anybody other than models.

You weren’t pretty enough for film?

Absolutely not. I was way too cute and perky. It wasn’t until the late 70s that films started to get grittier and they were looking for a different kind of actor. Even when I finally got into that door, made those transitions, as hard as they were, it still was incredibly difficult. Even after various awards, it was very hard to find work worth doing. It isn’t that different today.

Are your granddaughters interested in acting?

The oldest one is at Berkeley in the school of chemistry. She’s interested in environmental science. My younger granddaughter is turning 16. She is interested. I would only want for her what she deeply wants. You have to deeply, deeply want it. You can’t just want to be rich or want to be a celebrity. That’s just nonsense.

Are you glad you wanted it?

I’m certainly doing what I’ve always wanted to do, what I worked my whole life to be doing. There’s something in me that’s hungry enough to still be here.