DB7

Why I'm still hoping for an Oscar

After a succession of cameos, Peter O'Toole is relishing his first lead role for 20 years - as an old man smitten by a young woman. He talks exclusively to David Gritten on the set of Venus



Three years ago, the American film Academy wrote to Peter O'Toole, then 70, and offered him an honorary Oscar. This was a belated method of correcting an embarrassing omission: O'Toole was nominated for seven Oscars between 1963 and 1983, but never won one. It was also a way for the Academy to salute a great actor in the autumn of his years.



But the ploy almost backfired. O'Toole, choosing his words scrupulously, wrote back to say that though "enchanted" by the offer, he was too young for an honorary Oscar. He asked the Academy to defer the honour until he was 80. "I'm still in the game," he observed memorably, "and might win the lovely bugger outright!" The Academy gave him the award anyway, but O'Toole's latest project shows that he is as determined as ever not to rest on his laurels.



I met him on the set of Venus, directed by Roger Michell, in which he plays Maurice, an old actor living off the odd cameo role and TV appearances, one of which is as a corpse in a hospital drama. His best friend Ian (Leslie Phillips) is also a grumpy old actor; they sit in cafés and moan about their ailments.



But things take a turn when Ian's great-niece Jessie (played by newcomer Jodie Whittaker) arrives to take care of him. She turns out to be plain, coarse and a heavy drinker with an unhappy secret. Ian resents her presence, but O'Toole's Maurice is smitten by her, and tries to turn her head by exposing her to culture. Vanessa Redgrave as Maurice's deserted wife and Richard Griffiths as another actor round out the impressive cast.



One sees why O'Toole jumped at the part. Hanif Kureishi has written a hugely impressive script - funny, poignant, wise and politically incorrect in equal measure. The relationship between Maurice and Jessie is partly erotic, though never consummated. Venus may be seen as a companion piece to Kureishi and Michell's last film The Mother, about a woman in her sixties who takes a younger lover. But its mood is more positive and comedic.



"It's wonderful," says O'Toole. "I confess that, three or four years ago, I said I wished someone had the guts to write an unfeasible story about a young woman and an old man. It's a taboo subject. But it does happen."

I suggest he must be delighted that anyone would write a starring role for a 73-year-old. "Oh man, you can say that again," he says, beaming. A pause for effect: "Mind you, I could do without being in every f***ing scene. It's tiring."



If he's fatigued, it's hardly surprising. It's his first substantial lead role in two decades, since My Favourite Year (1982). Since then, his film work largely consists of cameos; most recently, he played a duke in Lassie.



"For the past few years, I've been the token geriatric, which suits me down to the ground," he says. "I love slithering up and down in nighties, playing kings, priests, colonels, dukes. I like all that."



This time, he's not the token geriatric but the star geriatric, and he looks a fright. We are in an unlovely setting: a further education college in north London. O'Toole is dressed bizarrely in a Viyella shirt with cravat, olive trousers, a red fleece, green socks and a shapeless woolly hat. He has shaved only cursorily. Only when he fixes his gaze on you with those piercing eyes do you recall the dashing, handsome leading man he was in his prime.


His astonishing film CV starts with Lawrence of Arabia and includes Becket, The Lion in Winter, Goodbye Mr Chips, The Ruling Class, The Stunt Man and My Favourite Year. O'Toole was nominated for an Oscar as lead actor in all these films; his innate charm and his reputation for hell-raising only enhanced his status as a star.



He enjoys playing a lead role, but it isn't easy for him. "Peter's very game," says Roger Michell. "The only difficult thing is, he's old. You can't just get him up at seven in the morning and start rolling. He needs time to thaw out, warm up. He needs to be treated with care."



Specifically, O'Toole feels the cold. "The action of Venus takes place around Christmas, and we've been shooting exteriors for weeks," he winces. "Lots of wandering round alleys, parks, canals. It's so bloody cold."



So he has insisted on one comfort: a yellow and white survival tent, to which he adjourns between scenes on location. The crew can assemble it in 25 seconds; inside is a director's chair and a butane heater. "I creep in there and sit and keep warm until the next shot," he says fondly.



The tent has become a jokey event and was used at several locations, including Trafalgar Square, outside the Royal Court theatre, in Carnaby Street, and on a Thames-side jetty. The production photographs it each time. "We're thinking of entering the photos for the Turner Prize," says Venus producer Kevin Loader, perfectly deadpan.


O'Toole roars with laughter when the subject comes up. He's accustomed to spacious trailers and five-star treatment, but the more spartan conditions on a low-budget (£3 million) British film do not bother him.

He's also used to films that close off city streets to shoot a scene, but he and Redgrave were shot from a discreet distance, strolling among real pedestrians on Kentish Town Road. Similarly, at Victoria Station for a scene in which O'Toole's Maurice was in physical distress, passers-by approached him, concerned for an old man's health. "Peter knows the point of shooting a scene in the real world," Michell says, approvingly.

'We wanted a real film star," Loader says, "someone who would really bring a lot of baggage in an interesting way. We did have a list, but it's not a long one. We wanted the possibility of someone who could give a different performance, something people wouldn't expect. And it takes bravery. Peter's pretty raw in this. He's not made up, barely shaven half the time, acting older than he is, sometimes."



His age can make fellow workers nervous. O'Toole was fitted with kneepads for a scene I saw, when he climbs on a closed door to peer through a pane of glass and watch an unclothed Jessie posing in the manner of The Rokeby Venus for a life class. Maurice must stumble, crash through the door and send easels flying. O'Toole did it flawlessly.



Yet he fell and broke his hip on Boxing Day, while on a break from filming. He swiftly had a hip replacement, but the resumption of shooting Venus was postponed for three weeks.



It will take more than such a setback to convince him he was wrong initially to rebuff the Academy's offer of an honorary Oscar. "You simply have to believe you have a future," he insists. "The moment actors start thinking otherwise, they're dead. We have to be optimistic. We have to believe that whatever we're doing, that we're the best actor, that audiences will come pouring in."



He smiles mischievously. "Or that a script like Venus will come through your door."

Life of a hellraiser



Born Peter Seamus O'Toole in 1932 in Connemara, Co Galway, Ireland, before moving with his family to England as a young boy, eventually settling in Leeds. <LI>Left school at 14 to join the Yorkshire Evening Post as a cub reporter. <LI>Enrolled at Rada on a scholarship in 1953. His year group included Albert Finney, Alan Bates and Richard Harris. <LI>Joined Bristol Old Vic and played Hamlet at the age of 24. <LI>Married actress Siân Phillips in 1958 and had two daughters. After divorce in 1979, he had a short-lived affair with model Karen Brown; they had a son in 1983. <LI>His role as TE Lawrence in the epic Lawrence of Arabia (1962) brought worldwide acclaim. <LI>In 1975, became seriously ill with pancreatitis aggravated by heavy drinking. <LI>Last year, took his first role for the BBC for more than 10 years as the ageing Casanova in BBC3's three-part drama of the same name.

Fellwanderer

About time he got one! He's more talent in his little finger than most Oscar winners have in their whole bodies.

Mind you, Helen Mirren [among others] hasn't got one either so he's in excellent company.

FELL

All the best
FELL

A signature is no substitute for a life

Rob Compton

That film sounds rather more interesting than many other new films these days.....

rgds
Rob

Jackdaw

When thus afflicted,I always consult my specialist,Miss Gillian Taylforth.
By the way,I still haven't forgiven him for those creepy 'you can' adverts for Zurich.
Must have lost them a lot of business.

Jacky

Marky B

He lost out in 1963 to Gregory Peck for his performance in To Kill A Mockingbird - that was forgivable,but it was shame O' Toole lost out because for three and a half hours he was centre stage on Lawrence of Arabia. In fact he was in nearly every scene
Ta Ta
Marky B

I once shot an elephant in my pyjamas - how he got in my pyjamas,I'll never know