NEW YORK, NY.- When Anna Sawai was preparing to die, she listened to Mozart.

In a key scene of the FX series “Shogun” — in which Toda Mariko, the disgraced but defiant noblewoman and samurai she plays, meets her fiery demise — Sawai delivers a rebellious speech to the sinister Lord Ishido (Takehiro Hira). Lady Mariko knows it doubles as a death sentence. To prepare for this pivotal moment, Sawai said, “I was listening to ‘Requiem K. 626’ — ‘Lacrimosa.’”

The music, she said, gave her power. “It really helps you build,” she said in an interview last week. Referring to the director of the episode, Frederick E.O. Toye, she continued: “I remember Fred coming to me multiple times and asking, ‘Do you still have a couple more takes in you?’ I was like: ‘Yeah, this is totally fine. I feel good. Let’s do it.’”

Set in feudal Japan and based on the 1975 novel by James Clavell, the first season of “Shogun” focuses largely on the relationship between Sawai’s Lady Mariko and John Blackthorne (Cosmo Jarvis), the temperamental English navigator whose arrival in Japan triggers the conflict that drives the series. That conflict tests Mariko’s Catholic beliefs and her fealty to traditional Japanese customs against her desire for Blackthorne — and for justice against her oppressors. It also leads directly to her death.

“People are always like, ‘It must have been tough to prepare for that episode,’” Sawai said. “But I’ve been holding it in for 10 months, and I finally get to let go.”

It was the end for Mariko but not for Sawai’s relationship to the character: Her performance, almost entirely in subtitled Japanese, landed her an Emmy nomination for best actress in a drama. A fearless exploration of the emotional chasm between Mariko’s duties and her desires, it is all the more haunting for how much it leaves hidden.

On a video call from Australia, Sawai, who is Japanese but was born in New Zealand and spent much of her childhood there, talked about the power of Mariko’s silence and about what an Emmy nod, her first, meant for her impostor syndrome. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

Q: “Shogun” reactions seemed to move swiftly from “Hmm, this show sounds interesting” to “Wow, this show is really good” to “Give this woman the Emmy right now.” Were you tracking that groundswell?

A: It wasn’t like I was sitting in front of my computer reading everything, but there’s always going to be a part of me that’s very self-critical. Even while it was happening, I was like, But what if they don’t like the next episode? Once we hit the end, I realized, Oh, OK, people are actually happy with the Mariko they saw. She’s beautifully written, and that’s why they love it, but I probably didn’t do a horrible job.

Q: Does the Emmy nomination confirm that for you?

A: It gives me confidence. I have such bad impostor syndrome, so I feel like: I’m doing OK; I can keep moving forward; I can keep doing jobs; I can keep working hard to do what they saw on “Shogun.” It just makes me want to do more. It makes me want to keep telling stories that have a big impact on the people who haven’t been seen.

Q: Who do you mean by that?

A: I’m talking about Japanese women. I’m Japanese; my mom is Japanese; my grandma is Japanese. Japanese women, and what they have been through, mean so much to me — there haven’t been enough projects that showcase the vulnerability and complexity and depth and strength they have inside. “Shogun” is a project that my mom was able to watch and say, “Oh, my God, I’m really proud of this. I’m proud of you.” And it doesn’t have to be Japanese; there are so many other people whose stories haven’t been told.

Q: Mariko is fascinating because of the push and pull between the passion and emotion she feels within and the constraints of her culture and religion. It leads to a kind of performance we’re not used to seeing in a television landscape largely defined by big, explosive personalities.

A: I’ve been in the position where I’ve had to conceal everything and say “yes,” even though I’m burning inside. I know that story. I was just channeling that. Mariko’s silence was powerful. If there’s a group of people talking loud, I’m looking at the person who’s sitting silently in the corner and wondering what they’re thinking.

Q: Yet there are scenes where her emotions burst forth — her clandestine sex scene with John Blackthorne, for example.

A: I think if we knew from the beginning that we only wanted to do half of the book, it would have given us time to wait until Episode 7 or 8, but we needed that moment to be in Episode 4 to see that Mariko is a human being. She’s not a perfect person; there are her desires, and her playfulness. To her, it just seemed like, Well, no one really needs to know.

I loved that episode because it felt like she was finally free of the strings she’d been tied down with. It was important, giving her a little bit more softness, humanness, rawness. After that, she’s all shut down again, and the walls are up, and she’s not pleasant. But that’s the whole society making her that way.

Q: Mariko’s death is a pivotal scene for the entire series. Does that add pressure to an already intense moment?

A: I’m sure that different actors have different approaches, but I treat every scene as important, so I stress out about every scene. I knew the importance, but if I were too focused on how big it might be, I’d be weighed down by that pressure. I know the power in that moment, which made me feel a little bit more sturdy going into it.

Q: How much of Mariko do you carry with you?

A: I still get emotional talking about her journey. There was an interview I did after the episode when she dies was aired, and I called her “Mariko-sama” for the first time, which you never do. It’s like calling myself “Miss Anna.” I felt that, almost unconsciously, I was saying goodbye to her.

While I was filming it, I didn’t understand the intensity of what I was mentally going through, and how much it had affected me, but it speaks volumes now. I want to approach all my projects the way I approach Mariko.

Q: “Shogun” has been renewed for a second season. Will you be back, and will you be watching?

A: I will definitely be watching. I will be the first person watching. Will I be back? Probably not. I don’t know what’s going on, and if I had any say in it ... I mean, I love the show. I love the creators. I’d love to work with them again. But Mariko’s story is done. It’s perfect the way it is. If I were in the writer’s room, I’d say: “Look, you guys, we need to move on. Everyone loved it, but they loved it because of how it ended. Let’s not ruin what shouldn’t be touched.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.