Rupert Everett

You may be thinking “isn’t that just a large and rather weak cup of coffee?” but apparently the American No is a recognised phenomenon in the movie business, as expressed by a producer saying “Let’s do this, we love your idea!” — rather like a British person saying “We must have lunch some time…” Everett has had his fair share of these, and tells us that most of the material in this short story collection comes from failed film and TV projects recycled as prose fiction show more for our benefit (or rather his own). Never mind, much of it is quite entertaining, so we shouldn’t complain.

We could probably have done without the first episode of his projected, but never realised, TV adaptation of Proust, which he presents still in script form, or his dramatisation of Oscar Wilde’s last days, but I enjoyed “Cuddles and associates” — a satirical fantasy (I hope!) about Hollywood agents who find they can do better by selling their clients’ sperm than by getting them parts in films, and “The ten-pound Pom”, a pastiche Evelyn Waugh love story set on an emigrant ship headed for Australia (although it could have been a bit shorter). “The last rites”, a pleasingly compact story about a British memsahib going native in 1857, is also very good. The short-film outline “Sort me out before you go-go” is raunchily good fun, too, especially for a piece that is meant to be set in a provincial English tea shop.

OK, so it probably does have something in common with the coffee, but never mind, just remember how gorgeous the author was forty years ago… show less

Proof that Rupert Everett's first memoir RED CARPETS AND OTHER BANANA SKINS was no one-off success, VANISHED YEARS draws us further into his life and career.

Starting off with a typically take-no-prisoners account of attending a celeb-packed magazine launch on Liberty Island with Madonna, Everett then whisks us to an Embassy dinner in Washington DC (which gives rise to a deliciously barbed profile of Simon Schama). While there Everett hits on the perfect vehicle for his launch into US sitcoms show more and we follow his rapidly disenchanted journey into getting a pilot for 'Mr. Ambassador' off the ground, this includes a delightful profile of his co-star Derek Jacobi. Everett also includes a toe-curling account of his short time on THE CELEBRITY APPRENTICE.

For all the freewheeling tales of showbiz highlife Everett's book takes on a sombre tone as he reflects on the loss of family and friends. In particular I was moved by his chapter devoted to Natasha Richardson which moves from showbiz anecdotes to a profoundly honest rumination on the missed chances of connecting with someone.

An excellent book. show less

Rupert Everett’s international film career was launched with Another Country, back in 1984, when he was both young and beautiful. Although never able to make the grade as a romantic lead – Hollywood was notoriously conservative back then and couldn’t risk the wrath of a potential right wing backlash if they cast an openly gay actor. Nevertheless he went on to have his fifteen minutes of fame in Hollywood, where he briefly held court in Camelot.

Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins show more describes in detail, hanging out with his famous gal pals – from Madonna to Sharon Stone. So far, so celebrity memoir, you would think. Whatever you think of Rupert’s acting abilities (and he is endearingly self-deprecating on that topic), this man can surely write.

On his privileged upbringing:

‘After ten years of prep and public school you were part of the gang; and if you weren’t, you were a freak or a fairy. Luckily for me I was both.’

On the movie business:

‘The movie business is a strange affair, demanding total dedication from its lovers, although it gives none in return.

Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins manages to be both witty and sad, sweet and endearing as well as achingly funny. It doesn’t sound like his younger, self-absorbed self would have been much fun to hang around with but all that changed when his beloved Mo, a black Labrador, came into his life. As he so rightly states, once you have another being to care for, it turns you into a better, less selfish person.

Although it’s fascinating to read about his early Hollywood career, hanging out with legends of another era, like Orson Welles, I just loved, that in that crazy mixed up world in La La Land, a black Labrador (a signifier of a British rural upbringing – if ever there was one), got to fly on Concorde and hang out in A Listers pools. show less

If the old adage that “you can tell a person by their friends” is true, then it doesn’t say a lot for Rupert Everett. Once he was making his way in world he seemed to gravitate towards the feckless, self entitled, selfish, the lazy and hedonistic. Almost to a man /woman / queen, the characters he describes are awful people...and yet he loves them and, ultimately to the possible detriment of his career and talent, spends much of his adult life partying and freeloading, even when utterly show more broke (it really is “who you know”, clearly).

He writes intelligently, and it seems a shame he’s wasted his brain and his talent on getting wasted so much. It’s laudable he became interested in charity work when exposed to it in later life but it didn’t sound like it made him reassess his own lifestyle much (at least, that’s the impression left by the book) although he might have slowed down a bit as time has passed…although most of his friends from his younger days had clearly died or “left town”.

There are lots of gossipy tales about actors he’s worked with which are entertainingly told...but from his adult life, not quite so much personal detail. He doesn’t appear to be one for introspection, or letting the reader inside his head too often. One thing many of his tales do underline is just how thick the line between the in crowd and everyone else is...you’re either in with them, and acceptable, whatever you do, or you’re not.

The book is an entertaining read, split into easily digested chapters...but especially when writing about his adult life, lacking personal detail and focusing much more on what other people were like.

I just came away with the impression he spent much of his life with little humility; although he is often self deprecating in the book, he doesn’t seem to suffer fools gladly and I wouldn’t like him too much (or he me, to be fair). He’s since written another volume of memoir which seems to be on the same lines. While this was entertainingly written, and parts are funny, being unable to empathise with any of the characters meant the bits some would find moving didn't move me at all. I think it will be a while before can read more about that world he’s spent his life in. My wife enjoyed this more than me; some of the unpleasant people he describes as great friends just really grated on me. show less