Rupert Everett is struggling with the heatwave. It reminds him of the summer of 1976, when he was 17, basking in the sun, serene as a sloth, his future spread out ahead of him. It\u2019s so different now. \u201cWhen you were young, hot weather was nice. But when you\u2019re chubby like me now, it\u2019s not so nice,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not chubby,\u201d says his publicist, with reassuring brio.<\/p>\n
\u201cI am chubby,\u201d insists Everett, in his breathy, blue-blooded drawl.<\/p>\n
Well, none of us are as thin as we once were, I intercede, and you were probably too skinny back then.<\/p>\n
Everett gives me a magnificent how-very-dare-you look. \u201cNo, I wasn\u2019t. I was wonderful-looking at one point. I had muscles. Everything.\u201d He\u2019s talking about his golden era in the movies, when he was big box office. \u201cIt was quite short-lived. I call it my Hollywood year.\u201d He chuckles. Everett\u2019s got a wonderful chuckle. A barely audible hum. A tiny rise in inflection here, a little stress there, and you realise he\u2019s amused. Occasionally, he just hoots with laughter.<\/p>\n
The period he\u2019s talking about began in 1997, with his comeback as Julia Roberts\u2019 gay buddy in My Best Friend\u2019s Wedding. For a while, he became the dream accessory for Hollywood\u2019s leading ladies \u2013 a charismatic, camp bestie. There was no shortage of lucrative work, but he was stuck in typecasting hell. Everett was hit with a triple whammy. He was gay, posh and unhelpfully tall at 6ft 4in. (\u201cIf you have to lean down to do a kissing scene, you look like a freak,\u201d he says.) It was never going to be easy to get leading man offers. And so it proved.<\/p>\n
His first shot of success had been 16 years earlier in Another Country, the Julian Mitchell play set in a private school dominated by the three Bs: bullying, bigotry and buggery.<\/p>\n
Everett (left) with Colin Firth in Another Country. Photograph: Ronald Grant<\/p>\n
Everett went on to star in the movie of the play, perfectly cast as horny, anarchic rebel Guy Bennett (based on the future spy Guy Burgess) because he had pretty much been that boy. The son of a British army major who became a successful stockbroker, Everett grew up in Norfolk and Essex, attended the Catholic private school Ampleforth in Yorkshire, and went on to be expelled from the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama for insubordination.<\/p>\n
The public didn\u2019t realise quite how badly behaved he had been until he published a couple of brilliantly written, kamikaze memoirs: Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins<\/a> in 2006, and Vanished Years in 2012. He treated us to crisp vignettes of himself dabbling in heroin, more than dabbling in cocaine, selling himself for sex when times were hard, seemingly hellbent on destroying every opportunity and betraying every friendship that came his way.<\/p>\n Nobody was let off the hook in the memoirs, least of all his A-list friends. He said Madonna and Julia Roberts smelled \u201cvaguely of sweat\u201d, which he found a turn-on. Roberts was \u201cbeautiful and tinged with madness\u201d, and, when stressed, Madonna \u201chad power cuts and the old whiny barmaid came screaming out of the defrosting cold room\u201d. (She didn\u2019t speak to him for a long time after this was published.) His pen portraits were as barbed and outrageous as they were finely observed. Describing his truncated appearance on The Celebrity Apprentice for Comic Relief (he walked out on the first day), he said Alastair Campbell had \u201ca big knobbly nose that was made for aggression or at least cunnilingus\u201d and Alan Sugar had \u201cthat blunt insolence peculiar to all barrow-boy billionaires\u201d. Everett established himself as a modern-day Hedda Hopper \u2013 a ruthlessly indiscreet gossip.<\/p>\n His ruthlessness extended to self-criticism. He called himself \u201ca terrible monster\u201d, \u201cimpossible\u201d and \u201ca cunt\u201d. And this, alongside the weather, is what he\u2019s struggling with today. He says he simply cannot begin to understand the man he used to be.<\/p>\n Describe him, I say. \u201cBrash. Pushy. Disingenuous. Lethal.\u201d Whoa, stop; there\u2019s a lot to go at there. Pushy career-wise, I presume? \u201cYes, obsessed. But not in the proper way. I was just obsessed about getting on rather than doing my job.\u201d<\/p>\n In The Vortex in 1989. Photograph: Donald Cooper\/Alamy<\/p>\n In fact, he says, back then, he did his level best not to do his job. He was always trying to pull out of shows or disrupt them, right from the off. \u201cIn Another Country, I behaved incredibly badly. That\u2019s another thing I can\u2019t understand \u2013 the equation that allowed me to feel right in doing that. I can\u2019t quite figure out how it happened.\u201d How did he behave badly? \u201cMaking everyone laugh, and ruining the show. Dressing up as a rabbi and going to sit in the box [in the audience] in scenes I wasn\u2019t in.\u201d He hum-laughs, but he sounds genuinely horrified at what he got up to. The playwright, Julian Mitchell, came to see Another Country one day when Everett had set up a horrible joke: \u201cSugar lumps that turned into flies in a tea party scene.\u201d The actor who discovered the flies in his tea screamed mid-show. \u201cA little bit of fun is OK, but I would ruin things.\u2019<\/p>\n And on he went, behaving appallingly in show after show. When he was in No\u00ebl Coward\u2019s The Vortex, an audience member wrote to him, saying he spoke too quietly. He apologised profusely and sent him a cutting of his pubic hair by way of compensation. That doesn\u2019t bother him too much today. What does is his lack of respect for the audience when he was performing. So often he was off his head on drugs, wishing he was somewhere else.<\/p>\n \u201cI had the weird remains of a punk upper-class attitude,\u201d he says. What does he mean? \u201cFuck everything. Fuck everything.\u201d How did that differ from, say, a working-class punk attitude? He smiles. \u201cWell, punk wasn\u2019t really an upper-class movement. Heroin is more the upper-class version of punk, which was the complete opposite.\u201d He mimes falling asleep, mid-conversation. \u201cSetting yourself on fire with a cigarette, that was the upper-class version of punk.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2018I always felt I was missing out on some mythical life that was taking place somewhere else\u2019 \u2026 Everett. Photograph: David Levene\/The Guardian<\/p>\n We\u2019re at a cafe in Bloomsbury, London\u2019s literary quarter, close to where he has a flat. Everett, who has just turned 67, is still handsome and huge, with a great head of hair. But he looks his age. The butter-cutting cheekbones of old have gone. He used to be too pretty to play character roles, which he says he always wanted to do. Now he\u2019s in perfect shape for them. He can\u2019t be bothered with the gym these days, or yoga or pilates, even though he knows they may be the route to a longer life. He enjoys walking his labrador, and that\u2019s as far as it goes, exercise-wise.<\/p>\n Even when he became bodybuilder buff in Hollywood, he says, he didn\u2019t do it properly. \u201cI ruined myself. Now I\u2019m almost crippled as a result. I could never be bothered to do all those things, like stretching, which were necessary for lifting weights, because your tendons get tighter and tighter. So boring. I didn\u2019t do any of that. So now my demise will be musculoskeletal, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n Everett is fantastically polite. Even when he goes to the loo, he asks if I mind, and apologises for the discourtesy. Occasionally, a more assertive side emerges. \u201cWould you like a bacon sandwich?\u201d he barks out of nowhere, with such enthusiasm that it sounds more like a command than an invitation. He seems to belong to a different age. There are so many reasons not to ask a stranger if they fancy a bacon butty \u2013 from vegetarianism to religion \u2013 none of which appear to have occurred to him. As it happens, I can\u2019t think of anything nicer.<\/p>\n I ask him what advice he would give the young Rupert now. \u201cWell, in terms of going into the theatre, one of the things you really have to take on board is that everyone has paid quite a lot of money to see you, and so, no matter how depressed you might be feeling, or how you might feel you\u2019re missing out on something \u2026\u201d His sentence trails off, as they often do. \u201cI always felt I was missing out on some mythical life that was taking place somewhere else. That was my problem.\u201d<\/p>\n As Oscar Wilde in David Hare\u2019s The Judas Kiss, at the Hampstead Theatre, London, in 2012. Photograph: Robbie Jack\/Corbis\/Getty Images<\/p>\n That fear of missing out was usually connected to sex. Was he as sexually obsessed as he makes out in his memoirs? \u201cOh yes.\u201d It sounds as if he couldn\u2019t get through a day without shagging a stranger. \u201cYes! Remember, the sexual revolution had only happened 10 years before. It was a boom time for sexual liberation. I think people felt you could get some kind of liberation. I felt I could smash my past up through sex. That it would somehow liberate you.\u201d He regarded his privileged background with disdain; dull, hidebound and conservative in every sense. He wanted a life of total adventure.<\/p>\n Was it fun, reckless or both? \u201cIt\u2019s just another thing I can\u2019t imagine. I can\u2019t imagine that person. I think the hunger of one\u2019s hormones is something one does forget once hormones dry up. And then it\u2019s impossible to remember what that surge, those spring tides, really felt like. But those spring tides of hormones are intense.\u201d<\/p>\n He talks nostalgically about his nights cruising on Hampstead Heath in London. The thrill of the unknown; the promise of lit cigarettes in the distance; being a leather queen. \u201cHampstead Heath was like being in A Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream. You\u2019d go down into the darkness, it would be pitch black and you\u2019d hear scrunch scrunch scrunch of someone coming up, and then suddenly you\u2019d see a galaxy of cigarette lights, like stars, a cluster of guys, and you\u2019d hear someone being spanked and the echo of it deep across the heath.\u201d Was he a spanker or spankee? He smiles. \u201cI was more an observer. You\u2019d make for where the spanking was happening and sometimes you\u2019d have to walk for miles.\u201d So you just observed? \u201cWell, really, I didn\u2019t like going that far. I was also very polite. I remember once thinking: \u2018My God, that\u2019s an incredible guy.\u2019 And I\u2019m cruising him for about half an hour, getting closer and closer, and eventually I realised it was a tree!\u201d<\/p>\n Was sex more of a driver than work? \u201cTotally. That\u2019s what I realised. Even work was about cruising, really. Trying to be attractive. Which obviously came from the feeling of not being attractive enough. My vanity for me wasn\u2019t about \u2018mirror, mirror on the wall, who\u2019s the fairest of them all?\u2019. Vanity is often a feeling of deep insecurity rather than feeling how fabulous I am.\u201d<\/p>\n With Firth in Another Country. Photograph: Ronald Grant<\/p>\n For so long he felt like a freak \u2013 Gollum. At the age of 15, he was only 5ft tall. By the time he was 18 he was 6ft 4in \u2013 a human stick insect. \u201cMy arse was like two bones and a hole. And my legs were skeletal.\u201d He didn\u2019t know what to do with his new body, how to stand or hold himself up properly.<\/p>\n Years before building himself a new body in the gym, he hit on a simpler solution. \u201cI met these two queens in Tufnell Park who made bodysuits, and they made me a false bottom, false calves, false shoulders, false everything.\u201d And did he wear them in movies? \u201cYes, in everything.\u201d Did the directors know? \u201cNo! I\u2019d go into the fittings for the costumes with all my things on.\u201d<\/p>\n He seems to look back on the early years with a mix of warmth and horror. So many of his friends died young \u2013 from drugs, alcohol, heart attacks, accidents and, of course, Aids. As a young man he belonged to the live-fast-die-young school. \u201cI couldn\u2019t imagine being alive after 30.\u201d Did he want to be? \u201cNo, not when I was 20. It was James Dean. I aspired to die in a car crash.\u201d<\/p>\n Now he realises it was the background he so despised that protected him. For all the drugs he took, he never became an addict. And despite his chaotic lifestyle, he continued to turn up for jobs. \u201cThere was a very middle-class work ethic underneath it all which kept me just standing back from the edge. And miraculously I never got HIV. A lot of other people I knew did.\u201d In Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins, he writes about finding out that his then boyfriend had been diagnosed with HIV and just walking away because he couldn\u2019t cope. Life was supposed to be fun, and this was anything but.<\/p>\n \u201cA lot of people like me got HIV and died. That\u2019s another thing to factor in when I can\u2019t quite understand my behaviour. And for a long time you couldn\u2019t really test for HIV. So you didn\u2019t know if you had it or not, and that was an added weird pressure for someone who had just become famous, because it was a very difficult time to be gay.\u201d<\/p>\n Did he think he had HIV? \u201cI thought I must have. Also, people treated you in an odd way. You went to families\u2019 houses, and you could see people taking gay people\u2019s plates away to wash them separately. Everyone felt under siege.\u201d<\/p>\n Everett with, from left: Princess Deena Aljuhani Abdulaziz, Sophie Theallet, B\u00e9atrice Dalle and Catherine Ansel in 2014. Photograph: David X Prutting\/BFA\/Shutterstock<\/p>\n The astonishing thing is that, throughout the years of cruising, Everett was also having relationships with some of the world\u2019s most famous women \u2013 Susan Sarandon, B\u00e9atrice \u201cBetty Blue\u201d Dalle, and a six-year affair with TV presenter Paula Yates, while she was married to Bob Geldof. I can\u2019t imagine you with Sarandon, I begin to say; I think she would \u2026 He finishes my sentence. \u201cSwallow me whole?\u201d He grins and tears into his bacon butty. \u201cWell, she didn\u2019t. I loved all my relationships with women. I\u2019m not sure they loved it, though.\u201d Why? \u201cBecause I was so slippery.\u201d In what sense? \u201cGoing off with other people.\u201d<\/p>\n Why did he say his younger self was disingenuous? \u201cRelationships,\u201d he says instantly. \u201cI just wanted to have more.\u201d So how did the disingenuousness express itself? \u201cWell, pretending to feel the right things when you weren\u2019t.\u201d And were you good at pretending? \u201cYep. I was always shifty. I was always trying to get on to the next thing. No one was ever enough.\u2019<\/p>\n Did Geldof know about the relationship with Yates? \u201cYes.\u201d Did it bother him? \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d Yates died at 41 in 2000 from a heroin overdose. I ask Everett what she was like. \u201cShe was adorable and beautiful. She had the most adorable neck and Tweety Pie forehead. We were bonded by our sense of drama. We loved things being dramatic and dangerous. She was a fragile rock \u2013 tough, but very vulnerable, too. We were kindred spirits.\u201d<\/p>\n When they were mistaken for a regular heterosexual couple, he got an insight into a wholly different way of life. \u201cBeing straight was heaven, because you fitted in so well. When I was seeing Paula Yates, one night we went for dinner with [the actor] Gordon Jackson and his wife Rona when I was doing a play with him. He was a divine man. And it felt that the whole restaurant was celebrating the normalcy of two couples getting together, and Gordon was telling me about getting a mortgage, and I remember thinking: God, this is fitting in!\u201d I bet you didn\u2019t like it, I say. \u201cOh no, I felt like a wolf who wanted to get back out on to the heath. But I did feel for a moment: that\u2019s what it\u2019s like, belonging.\u201d<\/p>\n Everett has always considered himself an outsider. He has never been successful for long enough to be an insider in the movie world. Not surprisingly, at his most dissolute he fell out of favour. So he moved to France in 1986 for 12 years, where he hung out with a ragtag crowd of artists and celebrities, drunkards and druggies, sex workers and people who were street homeless. He has also spent extended periods living in Italy, the US, Brazil and Ireland.<\/p>\n With Madonna in The Next Best Thing. Photograph: AJ Pics\/Alamy<\/p>\n There have been a fair few successful movies (two St Trinian\u2019s films, Shrek 2 and Shrek the Third, The Madness of King George, An Ideal Husband), but there have been so many flops. Perhaps the most notable is The Next Best Thing, from 2000, which did for his career in Hollywood and his friendship with Madonna. Have they made up? \u201cYes!\u201d he screeches. Would he care to add to that? \u201cNope! No point in reopening old wounds.\u201d But the great thing about failure, he says, is that it provides you with so many new opportunities. \u201cLack of success is a good thing for actors. It drives you on. And you never know where you\u2019re going to end up. It forces you to reinvent.\u201d<\/p>\n If he hadn\u2019t had spells of being out of work, he would never have written his memoirs, novels (Hello Darling, Are You Working? and The Hairdressers of St Tropez) and short stories (The American No<\/a>, based on all his rejected screenplay ideas). Nor would he have written, produced, directed and starred in The Happy Prince<\/a>, his movie about the final years of Oscar Wilde, which he regards as his finest achievement. It\u2019s a good film, I say, and surprisingly disciplined, considering he was in control of the whole shebang. \u201cWell, I think that\u2019s what I\u2019ve become. Someone who is quite disciplined.\u201d<\/p>\n With Colin Morgan (left) in The Happy Prince.<\/p>\n He says it\u2019s just a shame that it took him until he was 60 to find that discipline. \u201cI definitely regret that, because I had it in me somewhere. But I was too busy thinking about silly things.\u201d Such as? He giggles. \u201cSex. If I\u2019d found discipline earlier, I think I could have done a lot more. As it is, I\u2019m trying to pull together my second film, but at the rate I\u2019m going I\u2019ll be saying \u2018Action!\u2019 aged 86.\u201d<\/p>\n I mention the Portuguese film-maker Manoel de Oliveira, who premiered his final feature film aged 104 in 2012. \u201cThat was then, darling! Nowadays nobody does that.\u201d What\u2019s his second film about? \u201cIt\u2019s about me, aged 17, when my parents thought I was totally out of control, and I was, and they decided to send me on an exchange trip to Paris.\u201d This was when the hormones were really raging.<\/p>\n I take it sex isn\u2019t as important to him these days as it once was? \u201cNo.\u201d He mentions #MeToo. \u201cI had my own little #MeToo movement.\u201d What does he mean? \u201cI spent so much time having dinner with boring men, I thought: I\u2019m not so into them any more.\u201d For decades he\u2019d been obsessed with the idea of men \u2013 their physicality, their sexuality \u2013 and it finally dawned on him that he found most of them dull. \u201cThey\u2019re not what you think they are in the end. No one is. I liked certain superficial aspects, but I couldn\u2019t really cope with the idea of them as wholes.\u201d He bursts out laughing. \u201cNot holes. Wholes!\u2019 What, he no longer fancied the wining, dining and talking bit? \u201cYeah, you know. Getting to first base you had to ride around the rodeo slightly.\u201d<\/p>\n With Bianca Jagger in 2002. Photograph: Dave Hogan\/Getty Images<\/p>\n He says he\u2019s astonished by the change in him. \u201cI always thought when I was still clubbing and hanging out that I\u2019d be one of those 75-year-olds in a tie-dye T-shirt at raves.\u201d And you never go clubbing now? \u201cNo. I\u2019m not interested. Not remotely interested. Well, I\u2019m hardly interested in anything any more.\u201d It seems like such a bleak thing to say, but he makes it sounds like he\u2019s achieved a higher state of contentment. \u201cI\u2019m interested in dust particles and things like that.\u201d Another hum-laugh. \u201cI could quite happily sit just watching spring.\u201d Well, what\u2019s better than that? \u201cYeah, exactly. I love smaller things now, thank God. I have to go for a pee quickly, do you mind?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n While he\u2019s away, I\u2019m thinking of another word he used to describe his early self \u2013 lethal. On his return I ask about it. \u201cWell, I was lethal. I was just interested in myself and my own pleasure. That\u2019s always lethal. I think I was slightly sociopathic. I was a terrible gossip, and I repeated everything everyone told me. I\u2019d borrow people\u2019s clothes and never give them back.\u201d How did you justify that behaviour? \u201cI don\u2019t know. Very weird. I can\u2019t. I don\u2019t know how I justified it to myself. I was lethal.\u201d<\/p>\n Is he less selfish now? He looks a little affronted. \u201cI\u2019m still quite selfish.\u201d He pauses. \u201cI\u2019ve been very lucky. I\u2019m spoilt to a certain degree, but yes, I think I am less selfish. Probably more thoughtful about other people\u2019s spaces. You have to be when you live with someone.\u201d He and Henrique, a Brazilian accountant, have been together for 16 years and married two years ago. \u201cAs soon as you live with someone, that\u2019s the end of that \u2013 otherwise you\u2019d split up after five minutes. You have to make allowances, give territory.\u201d<\/p>\n Everett (right) as the butler to Callum Scott Howells\u2019 Henry Paget (left) in Madfabulous. Photograph: Simon Ridgway<\/p>\n I ask him what he\u2019s most proud of. He mentions the Wilde film, and then he says himself. It makes sense \u2013 Rupert Everett is probably his greatest creation. At 67, he\u2019s getting more work than he has in a good while. He\u2019s in the second series of Rivals as the fabulously named Malise Gordon; plays an ancient stooped butler to the eccentric 5th Marquess of Anglesey, Henry Paget, in the film Madfabulous; recently worked on Mel Gibson\u2019s biblical epic The Resurrection of the Christ; and next year is in the Harold Pinter play No Man\u2019s Land, directed by Patrick Marber, at the Donmar Warehouse in London. But what pleases him even more than getting the work is that he\u2019s finally giving it \u2013 and the audience \u2013 the respect they always deserved. \u201cI now really enjoy acting and take it incredibly seriously.\u201d<\/p>\n He bites into his bacon butty, and says it\u2019s taken a while, but he does believe he is now a fully fledged adult. \u201cI think I only grew up aged 55. My voice didn\u2019t break till I was 35. I think it\u2019s because I had a very protracted adolescence.\u201d Shortly after turning 50, he was cast in Pygmalion at the Chichester Festival theatre, and he could feel all the old failings threatening to knock him down again \u2013 boredom, petulance, Fomo. \u201cI felt the whole thing starting off again. I went in feeling ugh and I went to see a hypnotist and said please can\u2019t you just make me feel happy going to work, and it worked.\u201d And it has kept working.<\/p>\n In 2018, after decades away from home, he and Henrique moved back to Wiltshire to be close to Everett\u2019s mother and look after her. His father had died nine years before, and he felt he had let them down so many times. Now he wanted to do right by her in her final years.<\/p>\n \u2018I was so near to the cliff edge in so many ways when I was young.\u2019 Photograph: Time UK\/TV Times\/PA<\/p>\n Looking after his mother, he says, has changed him more than anything. It made him reassess his early adulthood and the type of person he has evolved into. \u201cI was so near to the cliff edge in so many ways when I was young, without even thinking it. Then, living with my mum and her generation of rationing, blitz-mentality folk, I realised that\u2019s what got me through that early installation of me. Discipline that I didn\u2019t even realise I had.\u201d<\/p>\n Everett used to be a socialist (champagne type, of course) and despised David Cameron because he reminded him of the toffs he grew up with. Now he describes himself as a pro-Europe conservative with a small c.<\/p>\n For all the rebellious chaos of his life, he seems quite old-fashioned, I say. Even his early rejection of social norms seems to be a throwback to an older age of gay radicals such as Wilde and Quentin Crisp. \u201cWell, I think I have thrown myself back in a way. Living with my mother in the last years of her life and being close to her and her world was like being dragged back on the tide to the beaches of one\u2019s youth. I found that I really admired the people that I\u2019d rather rejected all my life. They were so stoic about their problems.\u201d Has he become one of them? \u201cI\u2019ve become a country blob. That\u2019s what I am. I walk my dog, I write my books, and I feel I have become my mum and my dad since they died. I feel very much I am them, in one sense.\u201d<\/p>\n Despite adoring his mother, he spent so much of his life trying to win her disapproval. Not any more. She died last year and he can\u2019t begin to say how much he misses her. As I prepare to leave, he asks if there\u2019s any chance of not mentioning that he used to be a rent boy. Well, it\u2019s a bit late, I say \u2013 it\u2019s been out there for 40-odd years, and it\u2019s part of your story. \u201cI know,\u201d he says, a little sheepishly. \u201cIt\u2019s just that Mum used to get so upset about it.\u201d<\/p>\n Madfabulous is released in UK cinemas on 5 June and the second series of Rivals is on Disney+<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Rupert Everett is struggling with the heatwave. 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