At 86 years old, he has retained his natural presence, fundamentally sympathetic. With the publication of his latest book And let the barriers jump!*, the actor with more than one hundred and thirty films looks back on his career and gives some advice to younger generations. Meeting in London with a legend, over a cup of tea.
Pfirst surprise, you reveal in your book that you were not destined to be an actor…
No not at all, I grew up in a place where that wasn’t possible. My father was a fishmonger and my mother a housekeeper. We were poor people from east London. But I was a big movie fan. Near my house, a lot of girls went to theater class. By looking at them through the window, I stood out and had to participate in classes. It was because I was interested in them that I started. I never wanted to do this job to be rich and famous. My goal was to become the best actor possible. Not in relation to others, my only competition was with myself.
By age 30, you had already passed three hundred castings…
I showed up for all the auditions. For nine years I performed in small theater productions. I gained two pounds, then three, then ten and so on. But it was during this time that I took my real first comedy lesson. A director asks me to play a drunk man. I start to stagger and he corrects me: “What are you doing?” I answer him: “Well, I play.” He looks at me and says, “No, a drunk man is trying to speak clearly and walk straight, not playing at being drunk.” This summed up the art of interpretation in one sentence.
When did your career start?
I was performing a play in the West End. An American director named Endfield came to see me. He was making a movie, Zulu, and he needed a corporal with a cockney accent like mine. But I missed the role because he couldn’t reach me. I didn’t have a phone at home. We met again in a bar. I was tall with blonde hair. In fact, I had the face of an officer but the voice of a corporal. He asks me: “Do you know how to make a snobbish accent?” I replied: “I just spent nine years in theater, I do what you want.” And that’s how I got the role. I was lucky he was American. Even the most left-wing Englishman of the communists would not have kept me for this role. With the social class system of the time,no British director would have given the role of an officer to a cockney.
Then you got the lead role of Alfie, the flirt…
… which was a great success. In fact, no one wanted it. Terence Stamp, who was my roommate, had performed the play on Broadway, but it stopped after a week! I was lucky again. I was friends with Johnny Gilbert, whose father, Lewis, wanted to direct the film. His son asked him to see me in the theater, that’s how I got the leading role.
With your big glasses, have you created a real style for yourself?
At the time Harry Saltzman was producing James Bond with Sean (Connery), one of my best friends. Saltzman wanted to make another spy movie, Ipcress, immediate danger, but without Sean’s manly side, he wanted a nerd with glasses. This was good since I wore them in life. Plus, the film did very well.
Was shooting as many films as possible your only concern?
It was my job. There is an actor, who I won’t name, who spent his time waiting for the best role in the best possible film with the best dialogue. And the day this role arrived, he wasn’t ready! I would rather play than go back to the factory.
You evoke in your memoirs this very delicate scene with Christopher Reeve…
Oh yes! We interpreted homosexuals in Deadly trap. We had to kiss passionately. We each had a bottle of Brandy to cheer us on, but by the time we were filming we were too drunk to remember our lines. The director was furious. Fortunately, the next day we started again and everything went well.
How did Jack Nicholson give you back the desire to return to cinema when you had announced your retirement?
I was 60, I was tired. I decided to retire and spend my winters in Miami where I bought a restaurant. One day, my friend Jack walks by there and asks me: “Are you retired?” I answer him: “Oh yes!” He continues: “It’s a shame, I have a script, there’s a character for you. Not the first role, but the second and it’s very good. You know, you don’t have to have your name at the top of the poster all the time.” I trusted him and ended up playing alongside him in Blood and Wine. After that, I started shooting again. I won a second Oscar [for The Work of God, the Devil’s Part, by Lasse Hallström, in 2000, thirteen years after being distinguished for Hannah and his sisters by Woody Allen, editor’s note] and I shot seven wonderful films with Christopher Nolan. So, thanks Jack!
What makes you so optimistic?
What I explain to my two children and my three grandchildren is that whatever the difficulty, you must always see its advantage. When I went to war in Korea, I didn’t know if I was cowardly or brave. Following a hell of a night in the enemy camp, I realized that although I was not very brave, I was not a coward. During World War II, my father went to fight. I didn’t know if I was going to see him again. When he got into the military truck, my mother turned to me, and she said to my brother and me: “Now it’s up to you to watch over me.” My mother was a strong woman… It has marked me all my life. After that, you can’t do anything totally stupid.
You’ve never rested on your laurels, is this your way of working?
I always try to tackle different things. I have already written three autobiographies and now I am writing my first novel. I can’t sit all day watching TV. That would drive me crazy. I need to be active. I’m also writing a series about a nursing home. A comedy.
You are very close to your wife, Shakira…
My wife is the most special person in my life. When I met her, I was an alcoholic. She saved my life. Not long ago we parted ways for four days. The first time in forty-seven years. A heartbreak. I have two children, one from my first wife and a second with Shakira, and three grandchildren. Actually, I’m not very worldly. I love my tribe. This is the most important thing for me. Cockneys are real fathers of families.
*And let the barriers jump!, by Michael Caine, Éditions Baker Street, 323 p., 21 euros.
