‘SNL’ Star Heidi Gardner Thinks It’s Time You Said: ‘Fuck Approval’

Heidi Gardner has built her life on characters, from her dedication to prank-calling as a kid to her present-day creations on “Saturday Night Live.” Initially, Gardner didn’t have childhood acting aspirations; she began her career as a hairstylist in Los Angeles. But performing at the Groundlings, the storied improv and sketch comedy theater, gave her the confidence to pursue comedy full-time. Ahead of her fifth season on “SNL,” Gardner discusses the audition process for the show and how she’s learned to trust herself as a performer.

Tell me about your first professional show.
The first time I performed at Groundlings was for a class there called Writing Lab. It was a pass-fail, advance to the next level–type class. The final performance show, you had to do a sketch with a partner, and you also had to do a character monologue that you had written. I was nervous for both, but I was waiting in the wings backstage before my monologue. And it was this moment of: I have a career in hair. And right now, I’m choosing to be in a wig and costume, about to walk out onstage by myself and fully perform a monologue that I’ve also written, for friends and family and other people’s friends and family. I could walk away, and I probably should, because this is not what I do for a living. But I am choosing to put myself through this. It was this big moment of: Why am I doing this? What is this worth? And then the people-pleaser Midwesterner inside of me was like, That’s a paying audience; you have to go out there. That’s the only thing that made me go out there. If you don’t, then the show will get awkward, so you better walk out there and do the damn thing. 

What kept you going in the beginning?
It all was making sense to me. I knew what improv was because of “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” and “[This Is] Spinal Tap”—and “Waiting for Guffman,” of course. You’ve been doing these made-up characters for your friends and family your entire life. But I always thought that if you were in the movies or on TV, you were a bona fide actor from age 5. You had been training. I just started to see that there was [another] path. I had been doing my own under-the-radar training of non-theater school.

Was it a relief to realize that there are many paths to a performance career?
For sure. Maybe this is because of where I grew up—I’m from Kansas City, Missouri. And by no means is this the rule, but I feel like if you were a child actor in Kansas City, that just means you took acting classes and you possibly performed at the Coterie Theatre. All of that to my young brain was like, Oh, you guys are rich. It seemed like something completely unattainable. It was really cool to realize you do have skills, even if they were just prank phone calls: You were really good at that, and you stayed in character. And the 10 girls in the room with you were laughing the whole time, and you were the one they wanted to keep having make the call. That could be school, too!

What advice would you give your younger self?
I’ve looked back and I’ve realized I may have a little belief in myself, but I always needed that person to tell me, “You should take that improv class; you should quit the salon.” I felt like I had to keep working at the salon. My clients depended on me. But it wasn’t until my good friend Vienna, who worked with me at the salon, was like, “No you need to leave. You don’t belong here anymore. We love you, but this other thing is calling you,” [that I got it]. I look back on my life, and I find that it’s someone’s else’s belief in me that allowed me to take the leap. My advice to myself would be: Trust your gut.

How did you prepare for your “SNL” audition?
I remember knowing that I wanted to be absolutely undeniable in their eyes. I packed my audition. I think I did nine original characters and three impressions. It was a lot of 15 seconds of a character. I tried to work in some that needed a little more time. Those were a lot of characters that I’d done in shows before; I knew them. But the hardest thing with auditions is trusting that you know it. I remember the days leading up to it was like, How many times is enough? I even do that to myself now. When do I just trust I know this thing? 

For instance, I just went and performed at a college recently, and I was doing a character monologue where I interacted with the crowd. It’s probably an eight- or nine-minute piece, and I just had to trust myself. I've done it one other time, but it’d been a year since I’d done it. I went over it, I said it a bunch of times, I performed it on my feet once; and then I was like, Heidi, you know this. You’ve been this woman before; you know her; you know what she can do. Just like in life, if suddenly you forget all of it, you just have to keep being her, and maybe you’ll find your way back to the words—or you won’t. But you know how to be this person. You just start trusting yourself more: You’re a professional, you can get through anything. 

READ: How Cecily Strong Landed ‘SNL’

What is your worst audition horror story?
It’s so weird because I’m sure there’s a million, but they’re probably just little mess-ups that I thought were big. I will say, in my junior year of high school, I did a forensics speech and debate tournament. That was one of those things where I was not an actor, but I had this speech and debate teacher who thought I was funny. She was like, “Will you please go and do one of these tournaments and do this David Sedaris monologue?” It was basically him talking about his experience playing an elf at a Santa mall display. It was so funny, but it was also nine pages long; and I was 16 years old, and again, [with] no formal training. I think I read it three times and thought I had it memorized. Then we got to this tournament, and it’s the judges and 25 of your peers, [and] other high school kids from other schools. I got three lines out and no laughs, and then I just looked the judges dead in the eyes and was like, “This is not ready, and I’m going to go now,” and then just walked out. It was mortifying. I had to stick around because I had a debate later.

What advice would you have for emerging comedy writers and performers?
It’s difficult—those first few sketch shows you do or those performances of standup, and hearing that things don’t work. Immediately, for me, [I think to myself], What do I change about myself so [that] people like me? [Instead,] you need to go deeper into yourself. You’re the only one with your point of view. So many times, I’ll see something working for someone else, and I’ll say, “I need to write sketches like that.” I need to remind myself: That’s not what I find funny or that’s not what I can do; that doesn’t come naturally to me. Anytime you try to force something that’s not yourself, that’s going to feel bad and it’s going to feel inauthentic. But that doesn’t mean you can’t learn from the things and the people that are working and having success.

With me, I’m so character-y. I want to go out there with a sketch that barely has a plot and just be an annoying woman in a situation with my equally annoying husband. But maybe the audience has seen that before and they want a little bit more of an idea, something else to latch onto. I always have a goal of: What are the things that historically work at “SNL”? Even if it’s talk shows and game shows, those always work. I’m not saying I’ve done this, but if I have this character that didn’t work in this weird little sketch, what would happen if I made them the host of something? Will that make them more accessible? There are ways to keep your point of view and flex to whatever people are into at the moment as well, if you want approval. But also, fuck approval as well. 

I auditioned for “SNL” twice within the same week, and my first audition, I wanted it to be undeniable: These are my best characters. Then the second audition, they wanted me to come back and do a totally new set—new characters. All of those characters were my bench players—the ones that didn't work as a sketch at the Groundlings—but maybe I had 15 seconds of some bit I could do. That one didn’t work at Groundlings for a sustained three-minute sketch, but those characters worked for an “SNL” audition and got me the job. You never know. Just change it up. 

How did you first get your SAG-AFTRA card?
I think there were some short films I did when I was taking Groundlings classes that some other comedians had done. Something in that world got me in. 

What performance should every actor see and why?
There is this old TV show that I’m obsessed with, “Dallas.” I didn’t watch it when I was a kid—I was too young; but I have been watching it over the pandemic. My husband and I are on Season 11 right now. But this actress Linda Gray plays Sue Ellen Ewing, who is married to the biggest TV show villain of all time, J.R. Ewing. He is notorious, cheats on her. You've seen this character go through everything: She’s had a drinking problem, a horrible marriage. She takes him back so many times, and you’re like “No, Sue Ellen!” But there’s a moment in the show where she’s taken him back, she thinks that the marriage is going well, and she finds out again that he’s cheated on her and also that he could lose Ewing Oil in the process, which is his baby; it means everything to him. She’s in the most beautiful ’80s sequin gown, and she finds out and this insane music starts playing. She starts walking up the slightly spiral staircase, and she’s looking at him as the music’s playing. And she tells him that she hopes that there’s a fight for Ewing Oil, and she hopes they win so he can hurt just like he hurt her. She has the most contempt in her voice. I fell to my knees at that moment.