First published in Great Britain in 2022

by Canongate Books Ltd, 14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE

canongate.co.uk
This digital edition first published in 2022 by Canongate Books
Copyright © The Estate of Alan Rickman, 2022
Introduction and selection copyright © Alan Taylor, 2022
Foreword copyright © Emma Thompson, 2022
The right of The Estate of Alan Rickman to be identified as the author of
this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988
The right of Alan Taylor to be identified as the editor of this work has
been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British
Library
ISBN 978 1 83885 479 9
eISBN: 978 1 83885 481 2
 Contents
Foreword by Emma Thompson
Introduction
Diaries 1993–2015
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
 2015
Appendix: The Early Diaries
Index
 Foreword
The most remarkable thing about the first days after Alan died
was the number of actors, poets, musicians, playwrights and
directors who wanted to express their gratitude for all the help
he’d given them.
I don’t think I know anyone in this business who has
championed more aspiring artists nor unerringly perceived so
many great ones before they became great. Quite a number
said that, latterly, they had been too shy to thank him
personally. They had found it hard to approach him.
Of all the contradictions in my blissfully contradictory
friend, this is perhaps the greatest – this combination of
profoundly nurturing and imperturbably distant.
He was not, of course, distant. He was alarmingly present at
all times. The inscrutability was partly a protective shield. If
anyone did approach him with anything like gratitude or even
just a question, they would be greeted with a depth of
sweetness that no one who didn’t know him could even guess
at. And he was not, of course, unflappable. I could flap him
like nobody’s business and when I did he was fierce with me
and it did me no end of good.
He was generous and challenging. Dangerous and comical.
Sexy and androgynous. Virile and peculiar. Temperamental and
languid. Fastidious and casual.
My list is endless. I am sure you can add to it.
There was something of the sage about him – and had he
had more confidence and been at all corruptible, he could
probably have started his own religion. His taste in all things
from sausages to furnishings appeared to me to be impeccable.
His generosity of spirit was unsurpassed and he had so much
time for people that I used to wonder if he ever slept or ever
got time for himself.
 A word not traditionally associated with Alan is gleeful. But
when he was genuinely amused he was absolutely the essence
of glee. There would be a holding back as the moment built
and then a sudden leaning forward and swinging round of the
torso as a vast, impish grin flowered, sometimes accompanied
by an inarticulate shout of laughter. It was almost as if he was
surprised by himself. It was my life’s mission to provoke those
moments.
I remember Imelda Staunton nearly killing him by telling
him a story about my mother and an unfortunate incident with
some hashish. I’ve never seen him laugh more, before or since.
It was a bit like watching someone tickling the Sphinx.
One Christmas Eve party I had a sprig of mistletoe hanging
up at home. I was loitering under it and turned to find Alan
bearing down on me. I lifted my chin up hopefully. He smiled
and approached. I puckered. He leaned in under the mistletoe
and a sudden change came over his face. His eyes started to
glitter and his nostrils quiver. He lifted up a hand, reached in
and pulled a longish hair out of my chin.
‘Ouch!’ I said.
‘That’s an incipient beard,’ he said, handing me the hair and
walking off.
That was the thing about Alan. You never knew if you were
going to be kissed or unsettled. But you couldn’t wait to see
what would come next.
The trouble with death is that there is no next. There is only
what was and for that I am profoundly and heartbrokenly
grateful.
The last thing we did together was change a plug on a
standard lamp in his hospital room. The task went the same
way as everything we have ever done together. I had a go – he
told me to try something else – I tried and it didn’t work so he
had a go. I got impatient and took it from him and tried again
and it still wasn’t right. We both got slightly irritable. Then he
patiently took it all apart again and got the right lead into the
right hole. I screwed it in. We complained about how fiddly it
was. Then we had a cup of tea. It took us at least half an hour.
He said afterwards: ‘Well, it’s a good thing I decided not to be
an electrician.’
I am still heartbroken that Alan is gone, but these diaries
bring back so much of what I remember of him – there is that
sweetness I mentioned, his generosity, his championing of
others, his fierce critical eye, his intelligence, his humour.
Alan was the ultimate ally. In life, art and politics. I trusted
him absolutely.
He was, above all things, a rare and unique human being and
we shall not see his like again.
Emma Thompson
 Introduction
Movie-goers caught their first sight of Alan Rickman in 1988
in the action thriller Die Hard. At the age of 42, antediluvian
by Hollywood standards, he was cast as Hans Gruber, a
Teutonic terrorist who has seized control of a Los Angeles
skyscraper and taken hostages. So far, so unremarkable;
expectations for the film were modest and early reviews mixed.
This, though, did nothing to dent its popularity at the box
office, which grew by word of mouth. Starring Bruce Willis as
an NYPD detective, Gruber’s nemesis, Die Hard alerted
audiences around the globe to the talented Mr Rickman whose
devil-may-care interpretation of a psychopath stole the show
and received a deluge of plaudits. As a New Yorker critic later
noted, Gruber ‘likes nice suits, reads magazines, misquotes
Plutarch. No one ever looked so brilliantly uninterested while
firing a machine gun or executing a civilian. As portrayed by
Rickman, Gruber seems to possess a strange fatalism, as if he
expects to lose, and to die, all along.’
Lord Byron quipped that after the publication of his poem
Childe Harold he awoke one morning and found himself
famous. The same might be said of Alan Rickman and Die
Hard. Until then his career had largely been forged in Britain,
most notably at the Royal Shakespeare Company, where, in
1985, he stood out in plays such as Les Liaisons Dangereuses. But
before then, in 1982, he appeared on BBC television in a series
adapted from Anthony Trollope’s Barchester novels. Perfectly
cast as the Reverend Obadiah Slope, a slimy hypocrite with a
toe-curling smile, Alan demonstrated that he was as at home on
screen as he was on the stage. Global stardom may have taken
its time to embrace him but there was surely never any doubt
that it would eventually do so.
Blessed with a voice that could make fluctuations on the
stock market sound seductive and a delivery that was
hypnotically unhurried, it was obvious that Alan had a natural
gift for acting. To him, it was more a vocation than a profession
and he was irked by those who sought to disparage it and in
awe of anyone who devoted their life to it. As his diaries
demonstrate, acting is not merely a means of escape – in itself a
wondrous thing – but a portal to a greater understanding of
what it means to be human.
However, it was not how he originally sought to make a
living. Born in 1946 in the London working-class suburb of
Acton, Alan Sidney Patrick Rickman was the second of four
children – three boys and one girl. His father, Bernard, was a
factory worker who died when Alan was eight. It was thus left
to his mother Margaret, who worked as a telephonist, to bring
up the family. He was educated at a local primary school and
Latymer Upper, which counts among its alumni the actors
Hugh Grant and Mel Smith.
He met Rima Horton when she was fifteen and he was a
year older; both were keen on amateur dramatics. Friends for
several years, they became a couple around 1970 and remained
together for the rest of Alan’s life, marrying in 2012.
On leaving school he attended Chelsea College of Art and
Design, graduating in 1968. After a few years working as a
graphic designer, he won a scholarship to the Royal Academy
of Dramatic Art. It was at RADA, where he was recognised as
one of the top students, that his future life was defined. As he
wrote in 1974: ‘Fine acting always hits an audience with the
force and oneness of the well-aimed bomb – one is only aware
of the blast or series of blasts at the time – afterwards you can
study the devastation or think about how a bomb is made.’
Alan’s apprenticeship was served in repertory theatre, in
towns and cities like Sheffield, Birmingham, Nottingham and
Glasgow, where he could hone his craft and gain experience. It
was his equivalent of a Swiss finishing school and gave him a
solid bedrock on which to build. It meant, too, that when he
made the breakthrough as a star he never lost touch with his
roots or his sense of perspective. Following Die Hard, he was in
constant demand. First came Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, in
which he was unforgettable as the Sheriff of Nottingham:
‘That’s it then. Cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and
orphans, no more merciful beheadings, and call off Christmas.’
Always wary of being typecast, especially as a villain, his next
role was in the romantic comedy Truly, Madly, Deeply, opposite
Juliet Stevenson. She was one of a number of female actors
whom he counted as close friends. In 1995, he appeared in An
Awfully Big Adventure, an adaptation of Beryl Bainbridge’s novel
of the same title, and Sense and Sensibility, which Emma
Thompson adapted from Jane Austen’s classic novel. Galaxy
Quest, a parody of Star Trek, which has since acquired cult
status, required him to play an alien, while in Dogma he was an
angel who has the voice of God. Alan was nothing if not
versatile. Other roles included Rasputin, Anton Mesmer,
Éamon de Valera and Hilly Kristal, owner of the legendary
New York punk rock club CBGB. The first decade of the new
century was devoted largely to the Harry Potter series of eight
films. He played Severus Snape, the famously grumpy professor
with a ready wit, a part with which he became synonymous,
and which reduced considerably the average age of his
burgeoning fan base. On learning that I was editing Alan’s
diaries, my eight-year-old granddaughter was suitably – and
unusually – impressed.
As the diaries demonstrate, Alan was ever eager to test
himself and rarely chose an easy option. He set his bar high and
if he suffered fools it was through clenched teeth. He
demanded as much of himself as he did of others. A case in
point is the 1998 production at the National Theatre of Antony
and Cleopatra, with Helen Mirren as the voluptuous enchantress
of the Nile and Alan as her befuddled, besotted suitor. In
another existence, he might have devoted himself to directing.
His production of Sharman Macdonald’s play The Winter Guest,
in the theatre and as a movie, remained among his proudest
achievements. My Name Is Rachel Corrie was another such
highlight. Based on the journals and letters of the eponymous
heroine, who was killed by an Israeli armoured bulldozer while
protesting against the demolition of Palestinian homes, the
show, which he co-wrote with the journalist Katharine Viner,
was ‘postponed’ on the eve of its transfer to New York because
of alleged anti-Israeli bias. It was a charge Alan vehemently
denied. Less controversial was the movie A Little Chaos, about a
gardener (Kate Winslet), who is employed by Louis XIV of
France (Alan). Long in gestation, it finally appeared in 2014.
Given such a catalogue of credits, it might be assumed that
Alan’s dedication to his work eclipsed all else. Nothing could
be further from the truth. He was devoted to his family and
friends and was renowned for his gregariousness, kindness,
honesty and generosity. Should anyone attempt to pay for a
meal they were often rebuffed with two words, ‘Harry’ and
‘Potter’. Few were the days he did not dine out. When not in
London, he was often in New York, where he and Rima had
an apartment, or the Tuscan town of Campagnatico, where
they restored a house. Favoured holiday destinations were the
Caribbean and South Africa. If not on stage himself, he was
assiduous in attending shows in which his peers were
appearing. It was his habit to take notes and offer advice, which
was mostly received in the manner in which it was given. Brian
Cox recalled that, while they were performing in the 1980
television adaptation of Zola’s Thérèse Raquin, Alan told him
that he was being ‘rather slow in picking up your cues’. ‘Alan,’
replied Cox, ‘do you realise how long it took you to say that?
You call me slow. You – you are the master.’
Such testimony is legion, as was the love Alan engendered. It
is worth bearing in mind that when in his diaries he is critical
of friends it was born of love. Moreover, we can safely assume
that what he wrote he was also prepared to say face to face.
Why he kept a diary is unclear. Diarists come in all shapes,
and their reasons for recording their lives are similarly diverse.
Some people want to bear witness to earth-shattering events
while others are content to detail what appears to be trivia but
which, with the passage of time, acquires enduring significance.
We do not know whether Alan would like to have seen his
diaries published but he did receive invitations to write books
which could have drawn upon the material in them. What we
do know is that once he started writing a diary it became
addictive. From 1972, he kept a pocket diary in which he
noted appointments, anniversaries, opening nights and
addresses. Twenty-seven of these remain. In 1992, he started to
produce a much fuller account of his life and work and bought
diaries from a local stationer’s which gave him a page per day to
play with. These number 26 volumes, several of which are
colourfully and beautifully illustrated. In addition, there is a
notebook, kept from the mid 1970s to the mid 1980s, to which
he added whenever he felt the urge. He made his last entry on
12 December, 2015, by when he knew he did not have long to
live.
Madly, Deeply is a distillation of more than a million words. It
tells the story of what it meant to be one of the most fêted and
admired actors in the decades immediately before and after the
dawn of the third millennium. There are highs and lows,
glowing reviews and bad, performances that were a joy and
others when it seemed that everything that could go wrong
did. After the applause and encores Alan would repair to a
favoured late-night haunt where, surrounded by well-wishers
and fellow actors, he would unwind and think about the show
just gone and the shows yet to come. Reading this book is as
close as we can get to being there ourselves and to
encountering the real Alan Rickman. What a privilege it is to
spend time in his company.
Alan Taylor
 1993
PATRICK CAULFIELD – RICHARD WILSON – LAKE
DISTRICT – RADIO SUSSEX – BERLIN – RIVERSIDE
STUDIOS – MESMER – PETER SELLARS’ THE
PERSIANS, SALZBURG – NEIL KINNOCK – VIENNA –
STEVE REICH – SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE – VIENNA –
MESMER – BERLIN – HUNGARY – PARIS – ARTS
RALLY – FELIX AWARDS – CARIBBEAN

13 June
Quiet pleasure of preparing food for friends.
1pm Michael G., Christopher and Laura Hampton, Danny
& Leila Webb, Jane and Mark and Rima and Lily.
The sun emerged and we spilled into the garden.

20 June
Patrick Caulfield [English painter] who says he hates painting
but it’s how he earns a living. ‘The horror of walking into this
small room. Important to do something. Doesn’t matter what.
Just something.’

21 June
Arrive home, switch on BBC2 – Pina Bausch.1 The Real
Thing. (After reading another article in The Face about Hot
Young Things.) She has such a graceful determined
truthfulness. And Robert Lepage2 pays homage. Of course.

23 June
12ish Midland Bank to talk of possible house purchase.
1ish David Coppard [A.R.’s accountant] – movies, taxes,
arrangements, expenses. How does he retain his charm?
 4ish Belinda Lang & [her husband] Hugh Fraser – Lily’s
birthday. But she’s sick. Apparently I upset Elaine Paige on
Election Day. My casual cruelty again.

24 June
Finish Christopher Hampton’s Nostromo script. How do you
cram that book into a movie? Maybe he has . . . I don’t know.
A morning on the phone – How few real conversations
there are. Mainly a desire to present a moving target.
12 Gym. I’m not sure about all this.
4 Take Mum to Goldsborough Apartments. She’s a brave
soul. Feel myself persuading her. It’s probably not the real
answer.

25 June
→ The gym.
This is hard work.
pm Talk to Christopher of Nostromo, Sunset Blvd – Andrew
Lloyd-Webber in tears some days ago. ‘I’ll postpone 6 months
and bring in Hal Prince.’ Trevor Nunn says I need 30 secs of
dialogue in this scene. ‘What about?’ ‘I don’t mind.’

26 June
6pm Coliseum. Macbeth . . . A strange mixture of Argentinian
Fascism & Dr Finlay’s Casebook.
Peter Jonas,3 David Pountney [opera director] & Mark Elder
[conductor] all saying au revoir [to English National Opera]. A
world I know little about, sitting among fanatical applauding
Tories. Jonas made speech about the Arts & NHS. I wanted to
cheer. The audience went a bit quiet. The quiet of dissent.

28 June
A race against time. Reading scripts before lunch w. Belinda
and Hugh – traumatised because their nanny has given notice,
but typically, Belinda puts a delicious lunch on the table,
immaculately, on time, being told at 11.30ish it’s 12.30 lunch
not 1pm. She’s been ill and in the studio and looks $1m.
10.30 Sleepless in Seattle – Halfway through I think ‘I was in
this movie.’4

1 July
Dinner with Richard Wilson – wonderful food at L’Accento –
Something’s certain.
Carol Todd calls . . . Delicate stages on Riverside.
Roger5 calls. He’s, shall we say, not hopeful.

2 July
3.40am Awake trying to locate one worthwhile, nameable
emotion that deserves this sleeplessness. The dream was of
walking down one’s own corridor at night, in the dark, trying
to work out the geography only with my hands – finding doors
that should have been locked, not.
(NB Hand this to the nearest amateur psychiatrist.)

4 July
am Driving through the Lake District to Ruskin’s house.
5ish – Ferry back across the lake.
6.58 to Euston.
Really good to see Roger & Charlotte Glossop6 again and
now their wonderful, loving children.
They had a real, simple, generous, open attitude to work and
life. Not a single deception or selfishness. They’ve built their
dream and are living it. And giving it to others. Such an
antidote to the shenanigans of this week.

5 July
12 Juliet Stevenson arrives – a flurry of lost keys, inability to
get men on the phone etc. – in other words, as ever, late.
But it’s fun to work through the show with two bright lights
like these.
Juliet has, of course, been clamped.

6 July
3.30 Interview for Radio Sussex – this is why I don’t want to
do them any more. A man who talks of ‘paddies’ and thinks
one-person shows are the salvation of British theatre.

8 July
3.30 Flight to Berlin.
Lance [W. Reynolds, producer] on the flight, Wieland
[Schulz-Keil, producer] drives me to the hotel and then to the
restaurant – I can’t let go with them; I’m pulling on the reins
all the time until they sign.

9 July
Fittings with Birgit [Hutter, costume designer] – instantly an
angel full of the right ideas. Wigs & make-up need to be
shown.
5.05 Flight to London.
7ish – script to Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio and Pat
O’Connor7 wants to party; but for some strange reason they’re
off to Ireland for a week (they only just got here).

14 July
It seems sometimes to be in the stars that some days are
peaceful and some are manic.
9am David comes to deliver a bookcase and mend a
cupboard, Steve comes to fix the stereo, Janet comes to clean,
Ruby [Wax] to show some outtakes and the phone rings and
rings and rings.
 If it isn’t the Riverside lunch; it’s not a Riverside lunch it’s a
dinner; did I read the Rudkin script?8 Can we go to Stroud?
Who can come, who can’t?
8pm Supper with Louise Krakower [film director].
9.50 Groundhog Day.
Nearly. Not quite Capra. But a relief.

15 July
A day which led to Riverside shenanigans. And a 7pm dash
with the proposal. Jane [Hackworth-Young] screwed up or
screwed us in a big way. What’s underneath this? If it turns out
to be Jules Wright I shall screw her to every sticking place I can
find.9

16 July
As for Riverside we wait and see. Ditto Mesmer.
I think Deborah Warner10 has the right idea. Only do what
you want to, make yourself a unique entity – then you get
invited to Salzburg & Bruno Ganz. 200 extras and five horses
to do Coriolanus.

18 July
Home to phone message saying Jules Wright has been given
Riverside and then a call from Roger Spottiswoode telling me
the latest Mesmer horror stories. Is this a big test? What sense
can one make of the Riverside situation? I am writing this not
angry (yet – that will arrive in a big way if we discover
anything untoward) just numb from the endless pursuit and
advancement of the mediocre in this country.

19 July
Most of today picking up the telephone receiver.
Mesmer seems to be breathing again. A cheque has been sent
– was it signed? Misspelt? Something must delay it, surely.
 Jules Wright has Riverside, no she doesn’t, yes she does,
were we read? Maybe not. Is [ Jane] H.-Y. a traitor or innocent
stroke power-mad? At all events it’s not coming to us although
we don’t know if there’s any money to run the place.

20 July
Maybe today a corner was turned and for that I guess I’m
grateful in the middle of all this shite.
Malcolm & Sweet Pea [assistants to Thelma Holt] were so
practical and focused – it was very moving – they’d laugh if I
said so to their faces.
Somehow we got through it all – all those letters without
mentioning Jules Wright by name – as yet. Then Thelma
returned and the room is filled with humanity and good
humour.
Returning home I discover that J.W.’s proposal is all of 4
pages. ‘Put-up job’ says Rima without a pause. Her certainty is
often hilarious.
10.30ish – Billboard Cafe. Juliet [Stevenson], Mary
McGowan, Lindsay Duncan & [her husband] Hilton McRae.
Acquainting them of the day’s facts creates focus, strength &
purpose. We’ll see, we’ll see, we’ll see.
Somewhere in here Mesmer careers crazily on. Faxes, phone
calls, entreaties, promises, demands. Questions. Somehow no
answers. Plus I’m offered £50,000 a week to do Slice of Sat
Night11 in West End. MAD MAD MAD.

21 July
More phone calls.
Letters being answered.
Thelma got tough.
Time Out continues to ferret.
Michael Owen12 backs off.
 Andreas [A.R.’s personal trainer] shows me a daunting new
regime for the gym.

22 July
To the gym and then take Arwen to lunch – Café Tempo,
King’s Road. Can’t really begin to deal with how easy it is for
me and how hard for her to walk up a flight of stairs. The
image of her flat on her face on the floor of the taxi will stay
with both of us. Thank God she, me and the taxi driver could
laugh.

23 July
Diaries – funny things. Having to record people as a collection
of initials. For the record J.W. = Jules Wright; a dangerous,
manipulative person.

26 July
And Riverside brews on . . .
A letter from a friend of J.W. in the Standard. Write the reply
on the plane. Just shows how quickly it can be done. The
prospect of seeing Peter Sellars’13 production of The Persians, a
sudden ‘yes’, some phone calls and I’m out the door with a
hold-all and on the way. To Salzburg.
The journey to Heathrow really is the best.
Then to Munich, and cool hi-tech airport. 100 miles of
corridor later and there is a driver. £100 later and I’m in
Salzburg for the last ½ hour of The Persians. Now I’m mentally
photographing every second to make it count. Fifi [Fiona
Shaw] is there at the end. It’s always good to see her. She’s one
great Yes to life.

27 July
To Festspielhaus for Coriolan. Staggering venue. Hildegard’s14
model now full, unbelievable size. A sudden strange desire to
be in it. And we almost are, in the 3rd row. 200 extras, horses,
flames; epic but ambiguous too. Bruno Ganz is the one for me.
Seems not to be an actor at all. At the party I meet him. Shy,
courteous, quiet, slight. Of course. Peter Stein15 – a whole ball
game of his own. As Deborah found. Brave show. Cowardly
audience.

28 July
Deborah and Fiona Shaw have certainly found their power. But
there’s a sense of panic somewhere – what do they do with it?
Stories of Stein’s abrasiveness when confronted by Deborah’s
self-sufficiency.
Sod the diet – Bratwurst, potatoes & sauerkraut for lunch.
Mozart museum – the girl playing the instruments pretends to
speak French badly in order to surprise us how well she speaks
it. And English.
Find Fifi & Deborah at the theatre. Have tea. F. worrying
about her production of Hamlet, her film career, our agent, the
play she’s due to do at the National Theatre. I can see reasons
for all the concerns but what a waste of her extraordinary
energy. Talk of this and more with Catherine Bailey on the
plane. A remarkable woman. Hits the ball smack in the middle
of the bat, but all heart too. Home. Did that all happen?

29 July
Back home to articles in Time Out and the Evening Standard. All
very energising and focusing. If all the energy and focus can
shift to the other side of the river then, great. Keep talking.
Jurassic Park – what the hell is the plot? Great dinosaurs.
→ 8pm Lust w. Denis Lawson. Reminded me a lot of Lock
Up Your Daughters in 1974. Even less direction here.

30 July
Spoke with Stephen Tate – Observer. Talking with journalists
always leaves me feeling uneasy and a little like those tribes
who don’t like having photos taken because they’re giving away
their souls. But today there is a strong sense of colliding with
one’s destiny.

31 July
Woke up from a dream where Rima and I are going for a
week’s holiday in a remote country cottage. To get there first
we have to tramp through a muddy field to a farmhouse – on
the right there is a kind of hen coop. Our instructions are to
shoo the hens off the mattress they are running around on,
shake it & take it off to the cottage. As we approach, we can
hear après-sex giggling. We peer in. There in the straw are a
pair of 75-year-olds, dressed, but lying amongst the eggs and
hens, grinning.
Work with Tara Hugo [American singer and actor] for her
New York opening. I do love transforming things like this – or
maybe it’s just pointing a spotlight on a fine talent with more
accuracy. At all events the process is a mystery to me. Where
does the insight come from? Part of it is cumulative, but most
of it is a gift still shrouded in mist.

1 August
Riverside report in Observer – lazy journalism so the points are
more bluntly made than they should have been.

3 August
10.30 To ICM [talent agency] to sign deal memo. I wish these
things were more about common sense – it’s embarrassing to
think that discussions have to take place about the size of one’s
name, whether they’ll pay for the laundry, how many bottles of
Evian water etbloodycetra. Of course, if they try to rip me
off . . .
Then Rima and I go shopping for her Jamaica trip. Keep
feeding her and obtaining regular cups of coffee and it’s fun in
Knightsbridge.

5 August
Kristin Milward [old friend of A.R.’s from RADA] comes for
lunch. Now I think it’s time for something drastic. If there’s no
magic pill, then maybe she should work in another country.
England does not recognise or reward her qualities.

8 August
At home watch last part of Kinnock. Neil is wrong to feel such
failure. With the same instinct which told me too that he
would lose the April 9th election I also know that this country
had developed such a meanness of spirit – a refusal, however
unspoken, to think of others’ problems, that the balance was
tipped and he could have done nothing more. He has made it
possible for others to win by the hugest personal sacrifice.
Livingstone,16 Skinner17 et al. are wrong because they spend
their lives so consumed by politics they cannot put their fingers
truly to the wind. Their professionalism makes them lose touch
with their innocence.

9 August
4pm to Thelma’s office for preliminary chat about Riverside
before N.N. arrives. Present – Thelma, me, Claire, Margaret
Heffernan,18 and after a while Catherine Bailey. We discuss
avenues of approach and Margaret is her always blindingly clear
self. Doorbells ring, people enter and leave without seeing each
other, which is clearly the object, if not the plan. N.N. is
basically saying – take Riverside off our hands and it’s yours – if
you can manage without funding and at a peppercorn rent.
He’s an accountant. Theatre stories (Thelma!) don’t resonate.
At one point we are sitting plotting around an invisible
cauldron as Ian McKellen stops at the door. Thelma
immediately enlists him and nearly says too much too soon.

10 August
To Vienna for costume fittings and I didn’t even argue. I should
have.
 Coffee and lemon cake in famous Austrian or Viennese
coffee house.
Back to London.

12 August
Damning and fairly unprecedented report in Standard re
Riverside. Talk about things fadging.
3 Roger & Gillian19 to talk of the movie script. [Dennis]
Potter reluctant to rewrite.

15 August
All afternoon – the simple but back-breaking pleasure of
creating a flower-bed.

16 August
7.45 Gormenghast – Lyric Theatre.
Wonderful things, but no wonder I never read the book. For
fans.

17 August
3pm Doctor for film insurance check-up. Ironic, with this
streaming cold. He throws me by asking which character I
would choose above all others to play. There’s no answer,
because as ever, it all depends on the script.

19 August
A phone call from Peter James [theatre director] wanting some
assurances for the Riverside board meeting tomorrow. Strange
not being able to say everything to an old friend.

20 August
9.30 Royal Festival Hall with Belinda Lang and Mary Elizabeth
Mastrantonio for Steve Reich concert. Almost dreading some
esoteric wank – it turns out to be real food for thought on
many levels. Of how many pieces of music can it be said ‘it has
genuinely clarified the Middle East conflict for me’?
Belinda had come prepared with a mental list of things to
think about if it had been dreadful.

21 August
8 → Lindsay Duncan & Hilton McRae with R. & Robin
Ellis20 & Caroline Holdaway [designer] & Fatima[h Namdar,
photographer]. I guess we must have had a wonderful evening
– because when we left after eating great food, talking, talking
and standing round the piano singing Dylan etc. together it was
3am.

22 August
Walking out of the Caprice to find a cab, cat and mouse with a
photographer who clearly wants a ‘pissed off ’ picture. He
certainly has a ‘pissed off ’ back of my head.

23 August
am – and now it’s William Burdett-Coutts for Riverside. He
wants to talk. OK, but at this point – about what, whilst that
board is still in place . . .
Pat O’Connor comes over – I’ve spoken with Christopher
Hampton again about Carrington and I really don’t know
whether or not to do it.
8pm to Hampstead for Marvin’s Room with Allan Corduner21
and Dalia.22 Another of those American plays which insist that
you feel something. I don’t think anger & frustration is what
they had in mind. My mind feels totally shut down by the
experience. Alison [Steadman] & other fine actors
compromised by atrocious direction.

24 August
1pm Patio, lunch with Diana Hawkins & Sue D’Arcy re press
for Mesmer. This side of it, I’m told, is necessary. It is also,
finally, humiliating. Not their fault – actors as product.

30 August
10am-ish because of the [Notting Hill] carnival barricades and
no taxis → Kensington Hilton and first rehearsal of Mesmer . . .
Script obstacles to be overcome but encouraging to see how
often Potter is on the button.

1 September
9.30 Rehearse.
At least Roger is completely transparent – if there’s a
problem it inhabits his entire frame – and with Mayfair23 etc.
there are problems . . .

2 September
8.15 To Laura Hampton’s apartment. Champagne & stories of
family skulduggery and on to –
9pm Norma Heyman [film producer] – Sleepless in Seattle
party. Names, names – Meg Ryan, Nora Ephron, Neil Jordan,
Andrew Birkin,24 Michael Caine, Alan Bates, Edna O’Brien,
Stephen Frears, Lindsay & Hilton, Jon Robin Baitz.25

5 September
2.30 To Mum.
She’s tired and needs a holiday. But always levelling. I’m off
to Austria – she needs a new adaptor for the sewing machine.
6.10 Fly to Vienna. One of those flights. Baby crying =
tense mother. Drunk English businessman = resentful
stewardess etc., etc.

6 September
1pm Auditions for character sensitively known as ‘Bosom’ – 2
out of 3 actresses turn up with ‘Bosom’ well to the fore.
Humiliating for all concerned.
 2.30 Find Simon McBurney26 & Gillian Barge and Richard
O’Brien. Simon’s friend Johannes takes me on a whizz-tour of
Vienna & its coffee houses. Also tells me of time when seven
friends committed suicide (3 of them at one funeral after
another).

8 September
First day’s shooting Mesmer27.
There are Slovaks from Bratislava and Hungarians. The crew
is German-Hungarian. I miss not being able to barter
rudenesses. Am reduced to being an observer. Apart from
continuing script negotiations.

11 September
Rehearse with actors for ‘Afflicted’ scene. Austrians, Germans
and Hungarians. The scene is, thankfully, moved to a more
helpful location.
Lunch with Johannes and Simon and on to the Annie
Leibowitz exhibition – she’s a very good graphic designer with
an even better address book; her earlier pictures of parents,
grandmother are infinitely more interesting. Hundertwasser,28
however, is an architect of delight. The museum & the
apartment block are extraordinary . . . He creates uneven floors
to give a ‘melody of the feet’.

12 September
Major ‘Afflicted’ day. A spat with the producers who, of course,
want something for nothing – in this case the Austrian actors
(although the Hungarians are paid a pittance because their
standard of living is so much lower). Interestingly, I am accused
of blackmail – I pointed out that a ton load of moral blackmail
would descend on my head to perform (not to mention the
fact that so far I am working unpaid).
This makes the atmosphere sound blacker than it is – no, just
boys will be boys.
 The work is exhausting but pretty good. I suspect that one
of the Hungarians is better than most if not all of us. He
certainly solved the opening of the scene.
Lunchtime meeting with Roger brings uncomfortable déjà
vus. – ‘Alan is undirectable’ – Howard Davies.29
Dinner at MAK – Roger Spottiswoode and Amanda
Ooms30 are clearly having a fling – I hope the old keel is kept
even.

13 September
Kissing scene.
Too much like a commercial – no danger.
More Afflicted. There are some terrific actors in this group –
particularly amongst the Hungarians. English actors just don’t
look like that. It makes me want to hand over the costume and
say ‘Let me watch you.’
An interesting discussion w. R.S. & W.S.-K. They say ‘Great!
We got this, that & the other’; I say, ‘Yes but totally on the level
of actors’ – not with our ‘concentration and command’ (it’s in
the text for fuck’s sake, don’t they ever read it?).

14 September
No process in the afternoon and so – the spatzing is
unavoidable. I want to be directed not whinged at. (But I think I
must be a bit of a nightmare with my ‘certainties’.)
Rima phones to tell me Harold Innocent31 died at the
weekend. A piece of my life – and in a way it’s selfish to at least
be sure we had met and talked recently.

15 September
Called in from day off . . . Argument I still don’t understand
with R.S. The scene plays as I had imagined (more or less).
Does that mean he didn’t get what he wanted or that I was
right anyway and hadn’t explained myself properly?
16 September
Long scene – major concentration required. Someone is
watching over us meteorologically if not financially. The sun
shines, the wind blows – on cut. A bit frightening really.
Mesmer – is he monitoring this? The battle goes on for me not
to.

17 September
Last day in Vienna for the time being.
A request to write about Jules [Wright] for Vogue. I don’t
know about that. What does it smack of? Having to be more
than honest in print. Why?
Birgit’s party – she is a genuinely beautiful person in every
way. Looks, spirit, the whole shebang. Amazing food. Some
good talk. A bit of a sense of being circled by descending
wasps, mosquitoes, feathers, brick walls etc. But it was 2.45
when I got back so it must have been good.
Chris [set designer] thought I was 36. I did not disillusion
him.

19 September
Fly to Berlin 7pm. Walk around town . . . Get lost . . . Time
stands tapping its feet on days like this. Waiting to go
somewhere else and when you get there, not know where you
are.

21 September
To . . . breakfast with Amanda, Gillian and Wallace Shawn32
who we found in the lobby. He’s doing a show tonight at the
Berliner Ensemble. He talks in his haltingly carefully phrased
way of Eastern Europe, of people coming up to him in the
streets of Manhattan and offering him film parts in Amsterdam,
or asking him to read a script. He talks of his office suffusing
him with guilt whenever he enters it – some scripts have lain
there since ’86 – and of going out to buy a piece of paper
when he has to write [a] letter – and he talks of never making
an unplanned move.

22 September
One of those days – a bit too tiring – vaguely stressful – I’m
always surprised at how easily I can buy into that instead of
working against it. It’s the dog with a slipper syndrome.
Difficult scenes in the morning because of an actor with no real
process and R.S. with no notion of teaching him.
Roger tells me Wieland called him from his meeting in
London – there were 23 lawyers present, all on our payroll.
Wingate33 liked the footage – are we supposed to be pleased or
is it OK for me to feel insulted that he wished & was allowed
to see it?
Dinner with Gillian Barge – one of the greatest pleasures of
this film is working with her (finally) and getting to know her.

23 September
The devil was crawling around today making me antsy.
Tiredness is a factor along with a lack of real discussion which
is why it was well- motored by Simon this afternoon.
The madness has to be located and shown.
Meanwhile the dreaded press and even in the unit publicist
the unstoppable desire to compare one job with another – was
X more difficult than Y? No, X=X and Y=Y. Don’t be lazy.
Tonight I was fuming. The co-star34 is tired from something
or other, so rehearsals are curtailed. No discussions.

24 September
And a continuation today. Extraordinary how the set picks up
and absorbs and dances lightly round an atmosphere especially
between two actors. Difficult scene, fury with the director not
abated. So – a decision to remain apart as much as possible =
chill factor on set all day.
 It’s wrong when an actress is treated like a piece of Dresden
rather than a professional.
But we finish one scene and rehearse another. With
difficulty. But we get there. Onward.

27 September
A day at the top of a flight of stairs – throwing Simon
[McBurney] down, or sliding down the bannisters (and ripping
my pants).
10ish Gillian finished so late and is being called early – I have
to talk to someone. This is slavery (exploitation). Supper with
her and Jan Rubes,35 Czechoslovakian, charming and likes
dirty jokes.

28 September
A day almost entirely on my own. Walking along
Kurfurstendamm to buy shoes (the wrong ones) and then
Savignyplatz for some more (the right ones). Finding a new
part for the electric razor and speaking German to do it.
Photographing the bag lady who was sitting by a ton of rubbish
(not hers) in plastic bags . . .
Gillian called when she came back from the set – we had
room service in my room & talked of Stratford & Stratfordites
(and of her not being able to spell Oedipus in a P. Brook
rehearsal).

29 September
I think it’s called a relatively jolly day on the set.
A letter from Amanda – heartfelt words. A rushed but honest
response.
Paris Bar after work. Gillian, Tom, Roger, Amanda, Simon.
(1) There are difficult days ahead on this script. (2) There are
cross-currents amongst these people that would confound a
mini-series. Or a Feydeau farce.
1 October
In the end some very good work is on film, but blood is on the
carpet. I fought, kicked and screamed – or rather some
mesmeric force did the kicking and screaming – I hope in
protest at the way we were being asked to ‘make an effect
work’. I don’t know who is right or wrong. I am difficult,
temperamental, uncommunicative; others are sentimental,
effect-driven, undisciplined. But in the end something that is
OK.

2 October
Long, difficult day. The scene is designed around a lighting
effect. I rest my case.
On arriving, I announced that today I was a marionette – I
would be very well-behaved. Ironic laughter.

3 October
A day off.
To the Xenon and The Piano w. Gillian & Tom.
For half of it I thought it was a slightly coldly accurate
rendition of the script. But somehow it kicked in. Holly
Hunter was wonderful. They all were. An inspiration and
(currently) a vindication. I envy Tom the innocence of crying
in the street afterwards.

4 October
7pm pick up tickets for 7.30 show of Clockwork Orange at the
Volksbühne. I can see what the cavils might be but they are so
impressive. The atmosphere in the theatre is very charged – the
actors are in physical danger quite often; buckets of blood,
flour, water, whatever descend at regular intervals – and the
anger at the East German sellout is transparent. What the hell
do they do with Lear and Othello?

5 October
Shenanigans is the alternative title to this film. Who the fuck is
telling the truth???
Good work goes on. But so does the skulduggery. And I’m
so tired of it.
An interview with Cinema tests one’s responses more than
somewhat . . .

6 October
Sitting in front of a mirror all day. However much I look at my
face under such circumstances I never see the full horror that
photographers manage to capture. How do we edit that out? I
rake my features looking for all the bumps, cavities and lines
that litter the contact sheets . . .
Tantrums at the end of the day – pushed into a way of
playing a scene by not rehearsing it first, and then having an
instinct sat on rather than explored.

7 October
The sound stage next to us is shooting The Neverending Story –
how ironic.
6pm Wrap Berlin party.
– Good to dance again.
I seem to be functioning in short sentences today.

9 October
Talk to Rima, bless her, she always can make me laugh.

10 October
8.15 Last Action Hero.
I went with no axes grinding but it’s a very bad movie . . .

11 October
Sometimes the emotional commitment to a piece of work
keeps itself invisible, often for a long time, until it is threatened
– and then complete immobility happens – a kind of nervous
exhaustion descends.
I walked to a shop, had a coffee and a sauna, listened to some
people on the phone – all so defensive, all hiding their own
untruths.

13 October
8.15 pick-up for 9.50 flight to Vienna and car to Sopron –
Hungary.
Pleasure at pastures new is very much tempered by the
tensions and insecurities attached to this job – every day there’s
some new financial drama – will I ever know the truth
underneath all this? However the town has a great, impersonal
beauty – it knows it has been here forever, it tolerates the
twentieth century with its teenagers in backpacks and jeans.
After all it knew satins and bows.
The snooker was fun. On every level Miss O swims in
selfishness. What price freedom and personality when there’s
little curiosity?
No sound in the street. Odd moments of plumbing in the
hotel. A dog barks. The wind blows. 2am wide wide awake.
Why am I having to fight idiotic battles about hotel rooms?

14 October
Sitting in a carriage in the wrong order in the wrong
environment, and a scene which should be unbroken is done in
two parts.
Still no answers, still no certainty. And today, no food. The
town remains beautiful, the hotel – especially the bathroom –
makes me think of visits to my grandmother. No matching
towels in those days. Other crew members are not so lucky –
they’ve gone out to buy shoes to wear in their showers.
What the hell has this year been about? The push to direct?
The punishment is beginning to feel a little unrelated to the
crime.
15 October
A carriage ride with a coachman who learnt today how to
drive . . .
Some hilarious moments. Pizza Bar lunch in full 18th C.
costume.

16 October
Splat! Most of the day face down in the mud. Refreshing in an
odd kind of way.

17 October
Today was a real Sunday in Sopron. Quiet streets, church bells.
I didn’t go on a driving trip – I was v. well-behaved and
worked. And walked – to the cemetery. A very moving place –
here family is everything. The poor graves with simple home-
made wooden crosses as powerful as the granite slabs. Every
corner were the women. Cleaning, planting, looking after their
memories.

18 October
Wet. Wet. Wet.
Cold. Cold. Cold.
Carriages, freezing hands, crane shots.
Cold banana soup for lunch.
Shorter days, earlier darkness. Home by 6.30.

19 October
Caroline Holdaway and I play out Ball Scene. Having woken at
3am and stayed awake until the 5.30am pick-up – the brain and
the mouth were not on the best of terms. And it rained. And
cars honked and people talked. But we did it – Caroline at all
times impeccable manners and good humour. I did not.
Catherine [Bailey] & the BBC [Late Show] crew arrive. Odd
mixing friends and work like this. It means extra control but
extra requests.
To the Forum with a whole bunch and then the Billiard
Club. Talking with Roger – my selfishness when working takes
my breath away – Elemér36 has his own story this week. Others
have their vulnerable points. Where on earth do I get this
appalling certainty?

20 October
Thinking of what I might say to Omnibus/Whatever – British
theatre (Establishment) is marooned behind the proscenium.
For the most part in the hands of untrained, smartass young
directors who have ambitions but no heart or politics and
whether they realise it or not are being steered to success by
their actors and designers. They cast only from preconceptions
so that there is no real challenge to the actor whose
performance has been predicted from the outset. This applies
everywhere – I would be happy to pick up the gauntlet if only
someone would fling it. Few people are prepared to ask any
really big questions of us (actors) without the security of
thinking they already know the answer.

21 October
The day is like a media circus –
1. David Nicholson from The Times – seductive questioner –
his pupils have different sizes – really, he wanted the dirt on
religious mania.
2. Murray H. – took photographs. (Boring ones.) NB
Snowdon.
3. Someone from Sight and Sound ferreting.
4. The Crew on the Hunt.
We play the scene.
We also have a screaming match about the fact that the extras
are given rolls as a midday meal. Food was duly served in the
evening.
22 October
A let’s-get-it-done day threaded with Amanda’s unhappiness
and tiredness – Blanche DuBois is in a hazy distance.
The BBC2 crew films on and on. Till 2am when we went
back to the Billiard Hall.

23 October
To the Hilton and the Film Ball.
Ghastly. These things always are except on the people
watching level. Found David Thewlis, met Julie Brown37
(Raining Stones). Oases in a very noisy desert.
Playing hard-to-get = a practised innocence. I suppose it’s
better than a complicated involvement. Certainly with
nightmare woman.

24 October
My back is killing me. Seven weeks of accumulated tension is
finally expressing itself.

25 October
Why was I dreaming about having got myself a Saturday job at
Woolworth’s??

26 October
The Diva quotient is stepped up. Not however the Hungarian
actresses. Thank you once again the west. The Hungarians first
commit. However inorganic and time-wasting the process may
be.
Later at the Forum we all start to relax – wonderful goulash
supper and then at a strange nightclub (six customers and a girl
in UV bikini) it all comes out. They really were never talked to
(they did, however, put up huge barriers and stamped a bit –
not the Hungarian thing). But basically it is all about trusting
actors and allowing being open – all the old things. Somehow,
Roger takes it all smack on the chin. And then says ‘I have
learned something tonight.’ Infuriating, but extraordinary in his
openness.

27 October
And then you discover that he remembers nothing of last night.
We part in a flurry of flowers as I throw them into the back
of their minivan. Lots of hugs and blown kisses – they were
great, those women, and impossible. One moment inspired –
the next, screaming for makeup. ‘Das ist immoglich!!’38

5 November
Shooting the last scene became something of a nightmare.
Again – no process.
Some reserves of toughness and concentration groped for.
This crew is amazing. Such quietness and support. By
6.30am we were a small band and the room was filled with
unnameable feelings. ‘CUT’ and Mesmer speaks no more.

8 November
The last day of shooting. Happy, sad.
I sat, breathing it all back in. I spoke a bit, forgot to stand up,
forgot to have it interpreted – probably it was too short.
Monumentally moving was the flower given by every
member of crew to Amanda and I standing at the top of a flight
of white marble stairs as they fanned out below. At times I feel
so close to that girl.
Goodbyes. Kisses. Hugs. People coiling wires. Unscrewing
lamps. Loading. Kisses. Slamming doors.

9 November
6.40[pm] Flight to London. This time it feels like I’ve been
away forever.

10 November
. . . to Chelsea & Westminster Hospital to see the newest child
and Ruby’s third. It is so hard to believe but she has done it.
And this time (the child she was thinking of auctioning) there
she is, breast feeding. The room is filled with flowers –
something very grotesque from the orchid world from Joan
Collins looms in a corner. I took her a ready-cooked chicken.
She fell upon it.

11 November
PARIS.
The most beautiful day. Blue, clear skies and clean hard
sunshine. Out to Versailles – a scene I fought to keep in the
film. Strange to see Beatie39 walk towards us as Marie
Antoinette in full sail. Roger is furious/sulking. He never
wanted a French actor for Louis – Serge [Ridoux] really does
have a strong accent. Roger breaks the lens cap on the BBC’s
camera . . . The scene is done for a crowd of tourists and to a
backing of gunfire . . . A burst of late sun gives us an
extraordinary last show and we move to L’Abbaye Hotel in
Paris . . . Go to collect Roni40 & Isabelle H[uppert] for dinner
with the rest of us . . . A pleasant evening. Roger and I fittingly
finish with a row about my character, my work methods, did
they have sex etc., etc.

12 November
Another glorious day. Slightly messy, unfocused walking
around. Buy some clothes for Rima . . . Grab a sandwich. Back
to the hotel for a long, ghastly drive to the airport – nearly miss
the plane.

17 November
3ish Royal Court Theatre Production meeting. Educative to
hear people talk this way. Actors as meat on a West End slab.
Main topic of respect – the investors (largely same people as in
the room), the project, the risk. Hmm. The Royal Court.

18 November
6.45 Planet Hollywood for Juliet’s David Bailey film [Who
Dealt?]. Bailey is truly endearing even when the film breaks
down. I would like to work with him. He’s bonkers.

19 November
11ish Waldorf Tea Room w. William Burdett-Coutts, Thelma
and Catherine [Bailey]. I felt particularly inarticulate because I
felt I was staring at a completely unacceptable position.
Everything negative – nothing to offer, just waiting for our
input. Why should we?

21 November
3ish An attempt to see Remains of the Day. Sold out. A pleasant
hour’s mooching around Waterstone’s instead.

23 November
We go to Victoria Palace for an Arts Rally and then to the
Houses of P to lobby MPs. Standing in the cold with Ken
Cranham,41 Sylvestra Le Touzel,42 Stephen Daldry, Harriet
Walter. Cameras poke around – the Sun pretends to be the
Guardian. Gordon Brown comes out and says hello. Go in –
why have I never visited before? Someone in a white bow tie
gives you a green card to fill in. But now we’re off to a
committee room. Dennis Skinner speaks to us – brilliantly. My
MP is not available.
7pm National for Machinal . . . Extraordinary staging of
fitfully interesting and boring play with Fifi as Ringmaster.
Some moments of her most brilliant work – some when a
forklift could not have shovelled it off the page.
11 → Sandra & Michael Kamen.43 Star spotting – Annie
Lennox, George Harrison, Eric Clapton. Some live music. Left
Ruby getting the info from Pattie Boyd . . .

28 November
To the Royal Court for 7.30 Max Stafford-Clark leaving show.
Very well organised, brilliantly MC’d by Richard Wilson and
Pam Ferris, full of good things especially Lesley Sharp’s44 piece
from Road. Nice to see Gary Oldman on stage.
Afterwards the inevitable encounter with Jules Wright who
seems, perhaps understandably, a touch crazed.

29 November
I go to Savoy – cameras, bucks fizz, Tim Spall (thank God). Eat
bits of the meal, daringly drink a little white wine, watch the
dessert melt. The generator blows. Waiting waiting. Miriam
Margolyes tells Jewish jokes. Make speech – though so quiet
you feel the criticism every second. Escape.

3 December
12.45 → To Berlin for Felix Awards.
David Puttnam and Jeremy Thomas [film producer] on the
plane. David shows me a speech he is to deliver. Being awake
to opportunities = people went to Jurassic Park because they
wanted to = don’t make art films with no reference to
audience. My protests re allowing an artist to have their voice
fell on very deaf ears. I said he should get ready for the boos.
9pm Messages left – don’t understand. Dinner at Florian
with Wieland – he has a nimble tongue and a good heart. We
move on to the Mirror Tent – very funny trio is performing.
On leaving bump into Denis Staunton & friends including
Michael Radcliffe. We tumble into a boys’ own bar across the
road for tequila. Talk of Burgess, Vidal, Volksbühne, Stein,
Faust, Schiller, Baal and, at one point, Doris Day.

4 December
The ceremony was its usual interminable self. The more one
goes [to such events] the more ridiculous it all is. Except for
the winners I guess – a base instinct that always responds when
encouraged.
As do others, of course, in the face of all common sense. A
considered ‘no’ should be controlling one but this devilish
urgent ‘yes’ propels one forward – Food, Drink, Sex.
4am Florian with it all swimming around me as earlier were
Antonioni, Wim Wenders, Louis Malle, J.-J. Armand, [Volker]
Schlöndorff, Frears, etc., etc . . . Otto Sander45 is a new friend.

6 December
6.45 Taxi brings Mum, Pat and Michael to take us to Prince
Edward Theatre for Crazy for You. Birthday outing, stupid plot,
wonderful choreography, endlessly inventive and not at all
corny. Of course it’s all a bit of a Chinese meal.

9 December
Who could write the script for today?
11.30 Graham Wood comes to take photographs for The
Times – I’m not sure what I feel about these pictures.
Sometimes you trust the process, sometimes not.
Ruby arrives – in a bad way. I can only keep talking, hoping
to put up some skittles she can’t knock down.
Emma Thompson phones – would I take part in a charity
performance? R[obert] Lindsay is ill. Prince of Wales. OK.
8 St James’s Palace in a tie. Rehearse in the taxi. A run-
through – sort of. Do it. With panache. Prince of Wales is a
good guy, I think. An awful lot of ‘ushering’ went on and I was
steered in to meet HRH. Loathsome.
Savoy Grill with Emma. A very easy, enjoyable meal with an
easy enjoyable person. She says ‘fuck’ a lot. Much laughter.

11 December
1.30 [Ruby’s daughter] Madeleine’s party. Smarties ground into
the carpet. Paper hats being snatched off little heads. Fights to
blow out the candles. Grown-ups standing around a very low
table watching the children at their first party, remembering
theirs. As many tears and tantrums as smiles.

13 December
And now the Fascists are in Russia.
While Rome burns – I go Xmas shopping with Ruby – she’s
on the mobile phone, looking at exhibits in the V&A, picking
up earrings, putting them back, buying a Noddy toy for John
Simpson, worrying about the service charge, window shopping
while driving & over lunch the arrows of perception come
shafting out. We talk, too, of the depression the world is in.
pm – writing Christmas cards – a strange exercise when
there are about 150 of them and there’s no time for a real
message.

17 December
8am Special delivery from Buckingham Palace. OK. But why
at 8am? (Prince of Wales saying thank you.)

25 December
Christmas morning is always a favourite time. The calm, coffee,
orange juice, presents, quiet streets.
Around 12 Mum, Michael, Sheila, John, Sarah & Amy46
come over and the turkey panic has already begun. The
temperature goes up and down and eventually the bird is
cooked in 3½ hours rather than the 5 hours we had expected.
Turkey panic is replaced by potato panic. Vegetable panic lurks
in waiting.
Somehow, it all (except the completely forgotten stuffing)
arrives on the table and is scoffed. Now for present panic. Does
it fit? Do they like it? It does. They do.
Pictionary. Noise. Morecambe & Wise wind down.

27 December
The central heating completely fucked. Yellow Pages brings
rescue.

30 December
3 hours’ sleep. A sluggish taxi to Gatwick. An extremely
welcome up-grade to first class to Antigua. I might have
known we’d be punished.
I’m writing this in the restaurant at Antigua airport. Our
flight was overbooked with a party of West Indian OAPs who
were sitting very tight in their seats. So it’s off with our luggage
amidst a lot of ‘This is completely unacceptable’ and ‘No, I
don’t want to stay in Antigua tonight.’ Eventually we fly to St
Kitts on the 7pm . . . and then we scramble on to a 6-seater for
the 10 min ride to Nevis. Dinner pool-side at the hotel.47 Lots
of Americans surrounded by bamboo.
On the plane watched In the Line of Fire – unbelievable Die
Hard rip-off. Adversaries on the phone to each other, falling
from a skyscraper etc., etc.

31 December
Discovering Nevis. Drove round the island. Afternoon on a
lounger. Script. Snooze. Coke. 7.30 Champagne in the Great
House . . . At the end of this year, the feeling is of being a
silent sandwich filling.
1
German dancer and choreographer (1940–2009)
2
Canadian playwright (1957–)
3
British arts administrator and opera company director (1946–2020)
4
He wasn’t.
5
Roger Spottiswoode, British film director (1945–)
6
Husband and wife Roger Glossop and Charlotte Scott, owners of the Old Laundry
Theatre, Bowness
7
Irish theatre director (1943–)
8
David Rudkin, English playwright and screenwriter (1936–)
9
In the summer of 1993, Alan, together with theatre producer Thelma Holt and
Catherine Bailey, a film producer whom he had known since RADA, attempted to
take over the running of Riverside Studios in West London, which was in financial
difficulties. Alan, as the most high-profile of the three, bore the brunt of the media
coverage. Jules Wright, an Australian theatre entrepreneur who ran the Women’s
Playhouse Trust and had been a member of the Riverside board, made a rival
proposal. According to Time Out, London’s listing magazine, she had been offered
the role of artistic director. What became known, inevitably, as ‘Rivergate’ grew
increasingly contentious, culminating in a feisty encounter between Alan and
Wright (28 November 1993). In the end, the ambitious bid by Alan and associates
was rejected, Wright withdrew hers, and William Burdett-Coutts, who made his
name running the Assembly Rooms at the Edinburgh Fringe, was appointed director
of Riverside Studios, a position he held for twenty-seven years.
10
British theatre director (1959–)
11
A Slice of Saturday Night, musical by the Heather Brothers
12
Arts Editor, Evening Standard
13
American theatre director (1957–)
14
Hildegard Bechtler, German set and costume designer (1951–), wife of Bill
Paterson
15
German theatre director (1937–)
16
Ken Livingstone, British politician (1945–)
17
Dennis Skinner, Member of Parliament for nearly half a century (1932–)
18
American entrepreneur (1955–)
19
English actor Gillian Barge (1940–2003), playing Frau Mesmer
20
British actor (1942–)
21
British actor (1950–)
22
Dalia Ibelhauptaitė, Lithuanian film and opera director (1967–)
23
Production company
24
English screenwriter (1945–)
25
American playwright (1961–)
26
English actor (1957–)
27
Directed by Roger Spottiswoode, with a script by Dennis Potter and a score by
Michael Nyman, Mesmer tells the story of the eighteenth-century maverick physician
Franz Anton Mesmer, who used unorthodox healing practices based on animal
magnetism.
28
Friedensreich Hundertwasser, Austrian visual artist and architect (1928–2000)
29
British theatre director (1945–2016). He worked with A.R. early in his career at
the RSC.
30
Swedish actor (1964–)
31
English actor (1933–1993)
32
American actor and writer (1943–)
33
Roger Wingate from Mayfair Entertainment, one of the film’s backers
34
Amanda Ooms
35
Czech-Canadian opera singer and actor (1920–2009)
36
Elemér Ragályi, Hungarian cinematographer (1939–)
37
American actor (1958–)
38
‘That is impossible!’
39
Beatie Edney, English actor (1962–)
40
Lebanese director Ronald Chammah (1951–), married to Isabelle Huppert
41
Scottish actor (1944–)
42
British actor (1958–)
43
American composer Michael Kamen (1948–2003) and his wife, Sandra Keenan-
Kamen
44
English actor (1960–)
45
German actor (1941–2013)
46
Michael is A.R.’s younger brother. Sheila is their sister and John her husband.
Sarah is their brother David’s eldest daughter. Amy is one of Sheila and John’s two
daughters.
47
Nisbet Plantation Beach Club
 1994
CARIBBEAN – MESMER – LOS ANGELES
EARTHQUAKE – GOLDEN GLOBES – YUKIO
NINAGAWA – ANTHONY SHER – HAROLD
INNOCENT’S MEMORIAL SERVICE – LOS ANGELES –
DUBLIN – AN AWFULLY BIG ADVENTURE – RADA –
EDDIE IZZARD – MICHAEL NYMAN – NELSON
MANDELA – JOHN SMITH – PARIS – THE WINTER
GUEST – WIMBLEDON – PARIS – BETTINA JONIC –
TUSCANY – MESMER IN MONTREAL – DUBLIN –
VIENNA – DENNIS POTTER’S MEMORIAL SERVICE –
EDINBURGH AND GLASGOW

1 January
Nevis Island, Caribbean.
Properly blustery for a New Year’s Day. When it got too
windy on the beach we set off to look for some lunch.
Charlestown shut, locked, deserted. On to the race track
picking up a couple of totally incurious hitchhikers. At the
track, a huge rickety old grandstand, chicken being fried in
what looked like old buckets, an announcer saying ‘I hope it’ll
be a good clean race.’ A 13-year-old jockey from Antigua wins
the second race. Rima wanted to back Linda. She didn’t. It
won. Hilary the taxi driver buys us a couple of beers, a guy
realising I’ll never reverse the car out of its gap does it for me.
Coffee and cake back at the hotel and a chat with Patterson the
maître d’, who’s a sharp cookie, and tells us restaurant and
beach gossip. Dinner is Claus’ West Indian night . . . A good
chat with the flute/saxophone player in the bar. He plays some
sweet jazz and gets a request for ‘My Way’.

2 January
Time to explore after the faxed copy of the NY Times with its
somewhat idiosyncratic crossword has been dealt with . . . The
Beachcomber Bar with its handpainted sign right next to the
nightmarish 4 Seasons. America swallows up another culture
and turns it (literally) into a golf course with pedalos and
lounge bars and grills and happy hours. Coffee at the Fort
Ashby – just about standing up amidst the swamp vegetation –
is a humanising experience afterwards. Watch the sunset. Rum
punch, palm fronds, leaves & sailing boats in silhouette, peach-
coloured clouds. A sight that never disappoints. Lobster and
steak Bar B-Q. Talk to the Rhodesian mother and daughter.
Rima wonders dreamily if we will meet anyone of a left-wing
persuasion. Forced to converse with ‘The Fascists’ again over
dinner. She likes Rima’s voice, tells us of English people who
admire Rommel. She’s German and bemoans today’s rain,
though it means she’s had ‘a very good day’ (nudge, nudge). He
manages to look lascivious and coy at the same time, and says
(as he did previously when socialism was mentioned) ‘Sorry, I
don’t seem to be able to hear you – heh! heh.’

3 January
All day the push pull of sinking into the hotel life or kicking on
and discovering the real island, the people, the surprises. I
prefer a world that contains Sylvia’s Fashions and Muriel’s
Giftique to one with a 4 Seasons and a Benetton at almost
every stop sign.

4 January
A day spent chasing the sun and running from the rain. After
that scariness with ignition key. The car wouldn’t start, we’re
on a dirt track. Thank goodness for the man at Fort Ashby
who just said (rightly) ‘turn the handle a little’.
Alexander Hamilton Museum. I learnt a bit about soil
erosion and why we plant trees, not much about AH.
1ish. Unello’s on the Waterfront. Patterson spoke of the
fabled slow service. Actually it was quite speedy, but the
waitress did have to spit out a lump of ice before she could take
our order.
Tonight the tree frogs were silent. What do they know?
8 January
7.15 Montpelier – excellent dinner. Would have been perfect if
only I’d had a handgun for the other guests: ‘Of course
communism was always bound to fail.’

9 January
Packing. Tea in the Great House. Down to the airport. Faff
around. Bucks are passed. An innocent chaos. Finally Carib Air
takes Rima off for a 3 hour wait at Antigua airport. Poolside
Bar-B-Q for one. An odd experience, eating alone. Doesn’t
bear too much repetition. Say some farewells to this
extraordinary staff. They are all such individuals. Not cowed.
Nisbet can pride itself on that if not on our bathroom.

10 January
The freedom and emptiness of waking alone in a king-sized
bed.
Breakfast and a solo-completed crossword. Amazing. Pay the
bill. A philosophical moment as one’s life flashes before one –
when was the moment crossed over into this territory of
signing over this kind of cash. (For a holiday.)
Swim/walk along the beach. To the airport again . . . Man
with impossible toupee under sky-blue cap. Group of sexy
Dutch with impossible tans. Tightrope walking with delays – a
calm lack of announcements . . . A rush to the Miami plane. Is
the luggage on board? Meet Leonard Nimoy & his wife.
Marcia Firesten1 arrives in a pick-up truck. A moment to
remember and heave the case out at the Sunset Marquis.

11 January
LA – and a morning with the remote control. The Lorena
Bobbitt2 trial is fairly compulsive viewing. Jaw dropping in its
content and the coverage – the world is as it is and this trial fills
the TV screens. Eventually a car is delivered and Marcia comes
– we go for some lunch – the car is all automatic locks and
windows and push buttons – and too big. One of those cars that
drives you.
A wander round clothes and shoe shops – everything; roads,
lights, noise, clothes is weird after 10 days in Nevis.

12 January
1pm Cousin Ian picks me up and takes me on a tour of his life
in LA. His new coffee shop in the Valley, his house, his new
interior design shop in Beverly Hills. They’re a great couple he
and Wilma and they deserve the best – there is a simple
gutsiness and clarity about them that was a tonic today.
8pm Dinner at the Grill with Judy [Hoflund, A.R.’s
manager] and Roger. He’ll show the film tomorrow, is clearly
concerned that I’ll misjudge everything but he’s full of tiny
smiles and Judy is encouraged. But it’s so hard to discuss
anything with someone so defensive.

13 January
Marcia comes over with a copy of Ruby’s Hello magazine – she
gets away with it.3
Big Time screening room to see rough cut of Mesmer. So
hard to watch. Everyone else seems to be very positive – I
think there is a lot of work to do to find its rhythm, to reclaim
its wit and craziness and also to make the story clearer. What I
look and sound like is too late to import. I am in shock, really.

14 January
More sleeplessness thinking about the film. I need to spend
time with Roger in the editing room. Talking with him, it
seems at least a possibility.
11.30 To UTA [United Talent Agency] and talk with Judy.
I’m feeling vulnerable which doesn’t help, but we did try not
to bullshit – and really land on what we think and feel about
the film, and other projects around. They want me to stay in
LA at the moment. I want to run to the bus stop. Talk about
‘show business thins the mind’.
Tea and sympathy with Ant Minghella at the Hotel. He is
doing similar mental spring cleaning.

16 January
6 To Francine’s4 to watch the ACE awards – a platform, people
in black with their fucking red ribbons come on, go off, come
on, go off, nominate, announce, present, say thank-yous. Same
as all the others.
9ish. More people in black at the restaurant party given by
HBO. Michael Fuchs5 – rudeness to remember. Kiefer
Sutherland says hello as does Brian Dennehy. K.S. seems to
have a truly sweet nature.

17 January
Just before 9am – although time has lost all meaning since
4.30am when the world seemed to come off its hinges. The
bed, the walls, the hotel, the street shook for what seemed like
forever. I was filled with a strange mixture of total panic and
total calm – holding on to the bed (stupidly) which was like a
plant in a thunderstorm. When it all went quiet, some sort of
rational thought returned, at the same time as the realisation
that there was total blackness. I started to think of standing in
doorways and then of finding some shoes. The shoes came first
then the thought that I would look pretty stupid naked plus
sneakers. I found (somehow groping around) some underpants
– focusing bizarrely on whether or not I had them on back to
front (who gives a shit!) – jeans & T-shirt. Then my brain
kicked in and I thought maybe I should get the hell out of
there. Scrabbled around for keys, money, Filofax. People
outside in nightwear, blankets, gathering in the hotel lobby.
Eventually groped in basement to car and drove in black streets
to see if Francine was OK. Came back down the hill to a hotel
now producing coffee. The rest of the day was surreal. The staff
somehow carried on serving, cleaning, hoovering. At
lunchtime I drank cappuccino in the sunshine all the time not
knowing what next? Continued all day as people approached
the evening with a quiet tension.

18 January
Woke just in time for 3 or 4 major aftershocks. Whoopee. The
irony of watching all this on TV is that the scenes of
homelessness generally involve Spanish Americans and working
people whereas at the hotel room service lives on . . .

19 January
Here was an odd LA day. Some kind of total exhaustion set in
– probably from being held in a suspended animation like
everyone else in this city. Watched ’quake broadcasts most of
the day – eventually managed to turn my mind to a script. In
the meantime a couple of 5.0 aftershocks focus the brain in half
a second.
9.15 Le Dome – coffee and wine with Pam & Mel Smith.
D.P. racy as ever.
LA is depressing me.

21 January
9.30 Talk through the film with Roger. I’m still scared he’ll
knock the corners off . . .
1pm To the Bel Air Hotel (I wonder if it’s too nice) for
lunch with Christopher Hampton. Dan Day-Lewis jogs by,
sweating. We chat about Jack & Pat O’Connor. Leave a rude
note for Emma Thompson. Look at Christopher’s room – the
voyeur’s lunch. My relationship with this town is an ever-
changing thing . . .

22 January
Table tennis by the pool with Jon Amici (I can’t keep up with
the roller coaster of his amours) and then a swim.
Trip to the clothes shops (somewhat deserted) to buy
something to wear tonight. Found and bought something to
wear not tonight.
 So it’s off to the Golden Globes. An award show and all that
that suggests. Genuinely funny speeches from the Seinfeld
crew . . .

23 January
Too many rumours flying around about further earthquakes;
too many nights alone to make the rumours dissolve. Somehow
I’ve arrived at the decision to get on the plane to London.
Emma’s on the plane and gets me upgraded. So more nattering
(the perfect word and she’s easy, warm and lovable with it) and
some fitful sleep.

24 January
The smallest bump or sound makes me jump. I’ve never known
such delayed action. The wheels going down, the scrape of a
chair. Emma and I have plotted some future work together. It
has to be the right play at the right time and maybe we’ll
produce it ourselves. Which sounds like a sentence from Swish
of the Curtain6 but I’m jet-lagged.
Phone calls, unpacking. London makes me lethargic – jet lag
aside. (Except when the scrape of a chair upstairs makes me
reach for the nearest support. How long will this last?)

26 January
The phone call with [Roman] Polanski only confirms his
charisma and intelligence – charisma on the phone! I don’t
know . . .
I hate it when my head, heart and aspirations are filled to the
brim only with career. The rest of me hangs around like a
jacket on the back of a doorknob.

27 January
The builders are here this week, plastering, repairing cracks,
dust everywhere.
Desultory days. Can’t think properly. A strange reluctance to
make phone calls. Talking to friends feels like a duty.
 Indecision is, as ever, at the root of it all.
And so many No’s – Bee Holm’s film Awfully Big Adventure,
the Rankin film, Jack and Sarah, directing The Tin Soldier,7
running Nottingham Playhouse. Fate is running around
throwing hands in the air.

28 January
8pm Dead Funny at Hampstead.
More actors in search of a director. Authors should not
direct their own work in the theatre. This could be wonderful
if it put its Reeboks on. Supper with Beatie and Zoë
[Wanamaker] afterwards. Treading carefully is OK, but things
can still be hugely improved so I risk some fairly strong
suggestions.

29 January
pm To Harvey Nichols to look for Rima’s birthday gift. Too
late, too rushed, too hungry.
6ish To visit Mum whose eye is daily improving. Then home
for Rima’s fave rave Casualty . . .
And then watch Remains of the Day – a gloriously crafted
film with [Anthony] Hopkins quite wonderful. A lesson.
Emma needs to work with someone who will ask her to dig
rather than skim.

30 January
9am And the painters are banging about upstairs. I know they
want to finish but . . .

31 January
Funnily enough, when the pressure’s on I can either knuckle
down in a major way, or pull the sheets over my head am, and
pm hit the shops. Today – the latter. And scripts remain
unread.
1 February
Builders, dust, dishwasher – repair, tiling, replastering, dust,
dust, visitors.

2 February
And the jet lag goes on – this weird displacement of mind and
body, the sudden sleeps, the 5am waking and know that it lasts
for another couple of weeks. This body wreaks its proud
revenge.
Paola Dionisotti8 calls. A real conversation with a friend as
opposed to the empty automated words that mostly drift down
the telephone wires.

3 February
10.30 Paola picks me up and we trek out to Clapham and the
Peer Gynt rehearsal room. Great to see Ninagawa’s9 smiling face
and all the others with Thelma. Many a pang as I stand in the
rehearsal room thinking what if . . . Ninagawa and I both say,
‘Next time.’
4pm Stephen Poliakoff brings a new draft of his next film –
walking up and down, throwing an orange in the air and
completely unaware of either.
8ish Louise, Ruby, Ed, Stephen join Rima and I for one of
our Henrietta’s ‘Quick Cuisines’.10 Brilliant fast food. And a
fast evening. Ruby very much on form – achingly funny.

5 February
5pm to Oxford with Allan C. [Corduner] and Judy Parish to
see Rowan Joffé’s play. Jokingly, we say we are hitching
ourselves to his coattails while we can – it may not be such a
joke; the play is more of a movie script (his future?) but its
underpinning is brave and original and Rowan himself hangs
on to his charm.

6 February
More paint, dust, tea making.
Rima phoned. She was in a car crash. Instant fears. She’s
OK.

7 February
Rima comes by with a limp but she’s in one piece! ‘Thank
God’ are the only words that flow naturally.
6ish to Beach Blanket Babylon with Mike Newell to talk
about Awfully Big Adventure – basically fine words can be found
to justify the casting that satisfies the financiers. I dunno . . .
Supper amidst dust and furniture that’s crammed and out of
place. Unsettling.

9 February
11.30 Kristin Milward comes by – to Cherries [local café] to
escape dust and drilling and fumes. She brings some Stollen or
‘v. moreish cake’. She’s still planning her Bosnia trip. We talk of
maverick spirits.
Talk with Stephen Poliakoff to tell him I don’t want to do
his new film. I am so tired of saying no. He won’t take no for
an answer.

12 February
This space is filled with mops, buckets, cleaning fluids, dusters,
vacuum cleaners and sweat.

13 February
8.30 Rik and Barbara Mayall’s housewarming. A big Victorian
novel of a house with nooks and crannies for days. Red
balloons and hearts hanging everywhere – at one point, in a
corner, is almost all of TV comedy. Rik, Ade Edmondson, Ben
Elton, Ruby, Jennifer Saunders (Dawn & Lenny having left).
They all have such focus (or seem to).

14 February
A layer of snow and England grinds to a halt. ‘I won’t be able
to take any of the side roads,’ says the cab driver, daring me to
get in at all. ‘Just take me to Knightsbridge,’ is final enough for
him to discover sheepishness and me – piss elegance.
Over there, England strikes again. Tara [Hugo]’s second
opening at Pizza on the Park. No lights, no sound is the norm
but NO pianist? We rehearse a cappella (in some ways simpler
. . .).
Lunch at Harvey Nichols (avoid the vegetarian menu).
Some pm shop wandering.
8.30pm Back to P on the P. Tara takes 2 Beta Blockers and is
just behind the beat all evening but the vowels are thrillingly
relaxed. Otherwise . . . brilliant. Back to chez moi for cheese,
gherkins, pickled onions and assorted fridge remains.

16 February
Last knocking from the builders. Could we finally say ‘The
dust has settled’?
Read Tony Sher’s screenplay – it could make an amazing
film but it’s his film and does it have enough money & the
right people attached?
Talk to Juliet – always the easiest thing . . . from Morocco to
Death and the Maiden – would be easy to talk for hours (which
of course she does). Hanging pictures at 2am – a welter of
indecision and small holes all over the walls.

17 February
Spoke with Tony Sher. We’ll meet next week sometime which
means [I must] find some time to read it again. When I think
of the yeses and nos and the maybes of this last year the mind
boggles. All I have are my instincts but they are appallingly
diluted and redirected by second guessing other people’s
opinions.
Today is the 6pm meeting with Stephen P. about his new
film. I’m trying to be [as] honest and direct as possible but I’m
not quite sure what it is I want to say. There’s a big hole in my
perceptions just now.

18 February
Ivy 12.30 – lunch with Irene, Paul Lyon-Maris [A.R.’s agent],
Mark Shivas [TV producer], talk of directing, producing;
restaurant full of industry faces as London apes LA. Sometimes
one could wish for an earthquake to hit the odd specially
chosen table.

24 February
Flying by the seat of my pants.
A 10am rehearsal and already I’m watching the clock. At
11.15 get a taxi to Covent Garden for Harold [Innocent]’s
memorial service in St Paul’s. David G has organised it
brilliantly. Sit down in the shivering cold with Barbara Leigh-
Hunt,11 Noel Davis12 and Derek Jacobi. The church is full
(thank goodness) and the service was perfect – funny, beautiful
singing, lots of applause. Harold would have loved it. I read
John Donne and Christy Brown – Harold might have wanted
the Donne louder.

25 February
6pm 47 Park Street to meet Sydney Pollack. True warmth,
intelligence, charm. I could happily sign on the dotted line.

26 February
12.30 Flight to Los Angeles. Arrive 3.30 – Take Amanda
[Ooms] to Polka Dots and Moonbeam for swift shopping blast
– she has only sweaters. She, of course, could drop the
proverbial sack over her head and make it sing.
To the Sunset Marquis – I’m now on a stay awake jag.
Shower, whisky sour. Picked up for 8pm screening. Familiar
faces, strange faces. Mesmer is now a love story and I seem to
have one rhythm, one voice pitch, one expression. Truly
disturbing what can be done in an editing room . . . And
ultimately very depressing. And at 3.30am it keeps you awake.

27 February
Breakfast with Amanda – much mulling over the night before.
As she says, you can make small critical noises but afterwards
there’s just a kind of emptiness.

28 February
10am Walk the eggshell-strewn path and talk about the film
with Roger who is, understandably, defensive but open as ever.
If he could bottle it, etc., etc.

1 March
11.30 To UTA office to be filmed with Judy Hoflund – take 3
of walking in and saying Hi sort of stuff. Somewhere on tape
there however is some actionable stuff about Mesmer.

2 March
A hopeless phone-call with Roger who thinks I’m a crazed
actor. His openness is matched by his stubbornness.

4 March
9am To Greg Gorman [photographer] for a day of photos with
Amanda and Frances and Diana & Greg’s crew. Everything so
professional; people working together to find something. And
we did . . . The irony is the way the day was suffused by my
growing anger at my work being compromised. Putting the
clothes on again was strange enough.
Back to the hotel for a drink – stories of people telephoning
to find I had checked out . . . Question marks to Judy . . . A
stretch limo to the airport.
9pm Flight to London.

5 March
4pm-ish Arrive home and start getting ready to go out, plus
putting laundry in the machines and reading mail . . .
Taxi to Barbican for Ninagawa’s Peer Gynt. How can I judge
on this kind of jet lag? But some beautiful moments inside a
general lack of resonance.

6 March
1pm Belvedere with Rima, Ruby, Ed, Mr & Mrs Wax & the
children. The full picture of Wax en famille is something no
film script could dream up. Ruby sits laughing amidst it all – a
great advert for Prozac.
Back to their house for tea and furniture-rearranging.
Belinda rings & offers Chinese food. Perfect. Horror stories
of her play reduce me (along with jet lag) to silence. Rima
makes up for it with brilliant defence of family benefits. I love
her for that. Things balance out.

7 March
9am Drive to Heathrow for 10.50 flight to Dublin. Waste
£200 in upgrading my seat.

8 March
First day on Awfully Big Adventure.
One of the hardest scenes comes first. Maybe not such a bad
thing. Remember to keep a forward energy. Too much time
means too much thinking. Alun Armstrong and Rita
Tushingham already looking settled in. Not so wardrobe. Some
frightful last minutery going on.

9 March
Afternoon and evening we planned tomorrow’s bed scenes and
shot the first kiss. Georgina13 brave and focused as ever. I
constantly forget she is 17. No allowances at all are necessary. A
phenomenal luxury.
 Back to the hotel for a yawning supper. So tired I am sure I
answered the phone in my sleep. Halfway through the call I
came to, realising that I was talking to Gillian Barge and
arranging lunch on Saturday. I must ask her for her
recollections of speaking to a lunatic.

10 March
All morning bonking (screen type), humping, exhausting. Life
definitely not mirroring art – if anybody had sex in that
position they would break their wrists second time out.

12 March
Hangover.
3pm Motorbike lesson. 20 minutes to discover clutch control
on something that reminds me of a big dangerous horse.

13 March
7.40 pick-up. And off to the docks. A wonderful stormy day is
perfect for the scene. Life only gets difficult when it’s a
question of the double not being a double. My attempt to save
the day meant skidding off the motorbike and a swollen knee.
Later face down twice in the water – freezing and, strangely
enough, very wet. Plus much running & intenseness means
writing this at 9.30pm and tired through to the bones.
Later – the back pains, the knee pain, the sneezing . . .

15 March
Back to the docks to face a new devil – that fucking
motorbike. It has a brain or certainly a will. It got fed up with
my increasing confidence and started to rev itself with a higher
gear completely unaided. But it’s like a horse that wants to go.
4.45 Flight to London. Roger comes by with Mesmer tape. I
watch on fast forward for an hour. We go for dinner to
L’Accento. What was I eating? I was concentrating only on
trying to explain myself. But this is a brick shit-house wall.
17 March
9.30 Goldcrest [Studios].
Work the afternoon on an even keel and then an explosion
as the end of the film descends towards Mills and Boon.
Finish at 6.45 and go to the Riverside for 3 Lives of Lucie
Cabrol.

18 March
11am Marcia Firesten and Allan Corduner’s wedding.
I managed not to laugh, mainly because it made me very
reflective. Thank goodness religion didn’t come into it, because
that would have made me v. uneasy.
Back to Allan’s for some champagne – I think he’s almost
believing it all – or enjoying the dress up, maybe.

20 March
Dublin.
The day passes in the trailer. ‘Oh well that’s filming’ is said
all day. Called at 10.15am. Not used. Released at 9pm. Not
enough to read. Trying not to overeat – all trousers are
currently too tight. On a trip back from the food van with
another black coffee there’s Alan Devlin14 coming towards me.
Alun Armstrong joins us. 3 Alans. Devlin fights a constant
battle with the bottle. Wonderful aggressive wit, vulnerability
pouring from his eyes. ‘Look at you two! Wearing dodgy coats
and you’re winning.’
Dinner later at the Trocadero with Roger. Easy & warm.
What’s the point of arguing? Should have asked to see all the
cut material.

22 March
All day in the Gaiety Theatre bar which is pretending to be a
Xmas party venue. Balloons, streamers, turkey dinners, heat,
dancing, playbacks, mimed fun. A good intimate chatty
atmosphere as actors got to know each other, sitting ironically
enough in the seats of the dress circle. Only our profession
would put itself so mercilessly under the public microscope.
9.30 Watching the Oscars . . . Funny and serious by turn.
We are our own worst enemies when we take ourselves that
seriously. But then the world wants to film it. Apes picking
fleas from each other.

25 March
Captain Hook day. As I said to Mike Newell, there are 3
people operating here – me, Captain Hook & O’Hara all with
different centres and mine (the one pulling the other two’s
strings) is definitely the shakiest. So, haltingly we move towards
something that looks vaguely confident. Amazing to feel the
‘audience’s’ confidence grow with you.

27 March
. . . to work or to hang around for 5 hours is the question.
Sometimes the silence of producers goes beyond bad manners
and enters the realm of cowardice. Finishing a compromised
scene at 10pm and being called at 7.15am should not go
unremarked. Irritations fade by going to La Stampa. Bob
Geldof is there who is all the things one thought –
impassioned, articulate, attractive and (as you start thinking
what could you be . . .?) wasted.

29 March
The BBC films all day. Beryl Bainbridge arrives. Caught
napping with her. Competition has seriously reared its ugly
little head. The character [of Captain Hook] distances me
somewhat, but oh boy some of these young actors only have
ambition to fall back on. A spiky, unsprung cushion.
pm Rima arrives and a big lump of me settles. Thank God
we laugh together. She’s here in time to see Patti Love15 fly on
as Peter Pan. Unmissable.

31 March
Captain Hooking all afternoon and into the evening. It’s a bit
like bursting a balloon. Finally at 9.30 → Gate Theatre for
second half of The Seagull – directing at its dangerous worst –
good and wonderful actors floating, floating in nowhere
land . . . Patti, Rima & I end up drinking tea at the hotel &
discussing The Diva [Georgina Cates].

1 April
The bug bites – a sore throat to win prizes.
Time to hang around in dressing gowns with room service.
Or sit in a corner in the lounge with some tea & chicken
sandwiches.
Or watch TV and answer mail.
Or have dinner in the downstairs restaurant – ‘as a
concession we are allowing 2 guests to share ½ bottle of wine’
– Good Friday in Dublin.
The Diva bounds in – she’s ‘gone with Judy’ . . .16

6 April
The alarm earns its keep at 5.30am and Rima’s off to London.
An hour or so of fitfulness and get in the taxi for Cork Airport
and Dublin . . . To the hotel. To coffee with Conor
McDermottroe.17 To buy some Irish music tapes. To the
Olympia. Hello to Prunella Scales – detailed, complicated
actress and the person is slow to reveal herself, too. Like
persuading some petals to open a bit more. There is a great deal
of self-containment on this set. Ms Scales, Mike N., The Diva,
me . . .

7 April
Well here was a strange day – when a growing mood becomes
a dangerous corner. Do the reverse shot with Prunella –
walking into a close up flirts with awful self-consciousness.

8 April
My shot of the day. Walk up a few steps. Stop. Turn. Look.
Look away. The simplest tasks can make you feel like an
unoiled robot.

16 April
Some more [motor]bike-riding.
4.30 Tea at the Shelbourne with Carolyn Choa18 and,
eventually, Anthony Minghella. Talk of Wisdom of Crocodiles,
and 4W19 which is now No 1 in the States . . .
Later, Fiona Shaw and Denis and the 3 of us go to Café en
Seine (Cafe Insane as Denis calls it). Very good time had by all.
Fiona thinks I’m mad not to do the Rudkin film. Heigh ho. To
the set . . . Everyone’s in a nearby pub getting plastered. Dick
Pope [cinematographer] is getting furious at the wasting of his
time and talents.

17 April
On standby all day. Which means room service, packing,
wrapping gifts until 5pm → to the set for the unit photograph.
Slightly joyless occasion. There’s a feeling of frustration now.
Too much good work, too little time – scenes are having to be
lost or curtailed. Goodbye to some of the actors – there are
people who inspire articulacy, wit, humour, warmth. There are
people who freeze all those qualities in the mind pyre.

18 April
On standby till 1pm. Buy some brandy for Tony Hopkins. NB
My driver is not Sir A. Baggot Street is not so far
away . . . why have I not wandered up and down it before?
Lunch on the set. A last-dayish atmosphere. Quiet and caring.
Bang my head against some rubber and then to the Aquarium.
Freezing water; a frogman; grabbing my ankles; eyes open;
blood on the forehead; staring. It takes a while.
9pm Olivier Awards. How far away it all seems. On to
Trocadero – silly ideas are shall we say not tolerated.
 Diva Junior is in the hotel bar with her aunt. She’s chatty but
with pointed eyes.
On to Trocadero . . . There with Joan Bergin [costume
designer], Fifi and Conor. I think we eventually had a real
conversation but Fi is not about to accept any criticism –
maybe she’s right, but can any of us be that sure?

19 April
10.45 → flight to London.
An overall ache is developing, not emotional, just a reaction
to the Aquarium dunking.

20 April
The photos from Diana for Dennis Potter arrive.
In amongst the customary evasion of focus, I went to see
Judy Daish [agent] for her to deliver the pictures. She talks of
Potter, he’s finished his current work, is very weak. I would
like to be proud of my connection with him – I can only hope
that his strengths and darkness comes through subliminally.
Maybe when the music is there. I wrote thank you for giving
me more than a ‘faint sense of perfection’.

22 April
8 Ruby’s birthday party.
She arrives so happily amidst apparent chaos with Ed’s
perfectly balanced calm at her side. The children are opening
up – is it just because they feel more secure? Jennifer Saunders,
Ade Edmondson, Zoë Wanamaker, Joanna Lumley, Suzanne
Bertish,20 Tira, Henrietta, John Sessions. And the inevitable
late night row . . .

24 April
12.30 To Ruby’s for bagels and smoked salmon. Many children
underfoot, in arms and on shoulders. Or playing Nintendo
games – mere oblivion!
 Carrie Fisher is there, funny and fast. Steve asks Jennifer S.
what she does. Ruby doesn’t know what to wear for the
BAFTA awards tonight. Something that works in a close-up, I
suggest.

25 April
2.30 Picasso.
Mind-blowing exhibition. Fiona Shaw & I wander around
ashamed of our little lives and minute aspirations. It’s like
Picasso was permanently plugged in and the socket switched on.
Endless invention, humanity, passion. On the page those are
just words – in the exhibition rooms they are all tangible.

27 April
7am Watching South Africa put up new flags and crawl over
the trip wires and out of the tunnel.
1pm To RADA for the first programme of the evening.
Young actors trot through their paces for an assortment of
people with paper and biros. Tick, cross, tick. Back in the
building after 20 years. How can it have been that long? . . .
The Vanbrugh, hideously altered, now presents a cliff-face to
the action where once was a theatre. Maybe my role as council
member will be more reactionary than I thought.

28 April
Have been asked to do Mamet’s new play The Cryptogram. Have
said no. The part seems wrong. Suggest Eddie Izzard. This
meets with general approval. But he will need persuading – talk
to him & suggest reading the play together. He says OK. I feel
like a producer – it’s a good feeling.
4pm Stephen Poliakoff comes over to discuss the screenplay.
With himself. I know my place. Sit quietly and wait for the
odd space, jagged though it may be, to present itself. He has a
new scene in mind to hook me back in.

29 April
4pm Peter Barnes21 and Dilys Laye22 come by. Peter’s wife
Charlotte died on Wednesday. She had a unique spirit –
electric, shining, fiercely protective. In the end it fought itself
in schizophrenia. Peter says she willed herself to die. Peter is
clearly shaken by it all. I’m reminded to value all the strong
friendships in my life.
6 Amanda [Ooms] comes by to look at the Greg Gorman
pictures. She, of course, is so beautiful in all of them that she
can afford to just glance.

30 April
12ish → Abbey Road to hear some of Michael Nyman’s score
for Mesmer. Roger & Wieland there. No one introduces
anyone . . . but the music sounds like a motor, an engine.
1.30 Lindsay & Hilton’s to read The Cryptogram with Eddie
Izzard. Bob Crowley [theatre designer] there too.
10.30 Abbey Road. Watch Eurovision with Nyman. The
juxtaposition is very enjoyable. I should have put money on the
Irish song23 a month ago.

1 May
Call Mum and a Feydeau [farce] is commenced with taxis.
Eventually she gets here and we spend a peaceful afternoon as
she does crosswords, fills in competition forms, watches TV.
She’s looking very good and makes her own amusement in
such an easy, self-contained way. I brood with equal ease. Rima
gets back from canvassing. I make some supper. Mum tells
stories of her children and shows photos.

3 May
Talk to Liz. She saw Mesmer in Paris with James Ivory & the
actor [Daniel Mesguich] who is to play Mesmer in his movie.24
I am genuinely shocked at another lack of courtesy.

4 May
Lindsay calls and Eddie Izzard got the job!! I feel a real sense of
achievement. Now keep all fingers crossed for the next few
weeks.

5 May
Local elections. St Mary’s School; bright-eyed & bushy tailed.
12.30 for 1pm → The Ivy for lunch held by the Evening
Standard for Peter Brook. Very starry: left to right, me, Michael
Owen, Felicity Kendall, Peter Ustinov, Editor [Stewart Steven],
Mrs Steven, Tom Stoppard, Deborah Warner, Oliver Sacks,
one of his patients, Vanessa Redgrave, Sir John Gielgud, Peter
Brook, Trevor Nunn, Fiona Shaw. Ustinov effortlessly funny –
stories he remembers in gruesome detail of watching Tonight
We Improvise.

6 May
The British electorate today announce their dissatisfaction with
the Tory Party for they vote for someone else. The days of
voting FOR anything long gone. Labour now basically in
charge of the country’s councils as the government staggers
about.

7 May
3.30 Royal Court with Rima & Pauline Moran25 for Howard
Barker’s Hotel Nightfall. Totally impenetrable as far as I was
concerned but (of course) not boring and heavy with irony.
Why do I not know what was going on? Am I getting
stupider?

9 May
Dreaming vividly again. Pure sex. No weirdness, just
unadulterated. Should be a video.
9pm Watching Mandela walk into Parliament!

10 May
South Africa has a Black president and is a free country. It was
like watching a film.
6pm A drink with Greg Mosher [theatre director] and Eddie
Izzard. Eddie seems to be glowing with the challenge.

11 May
5 Home, change for Labour Party European Gala Dinner. John
Smith, Robin Cook, Tony Blair all say hello, pass Barbara
Castle on the stairs. ‘If I win the raffle, let me know.’ I did win
a prize at the raffle. 2 books. Many an encounter, many a
speech. The whole thing seemed pleasant and perfunctory.
Gordon Brown looking sooo bored. John Prescott bid £3,500
for some Orwell first editions. Any mention of Neil gets huge
applause. (Glenys’ mum had died during the evening.) Smith’s
speech the best I’ve heard him make. Ben Elton fast and funny.

12 May
John Smith is dead. Last night I spoke with him. He talked of
feelings of the impossibility of taking on the leadership of a
country but then he sees (as I did) Mandela and thinks his own
problems or insecurities are minute. His speech was excellent.
We all know how he would have been a great leader. Looking
along the platform and amongst the audience at the
complexities of Beckett, Prescott, Brown, Blair all I see now is
his clarity, intelligence & warmth.

13 May
It occurs to me watching breakfast TV and most tributes,
prophecies and analyses that the sense of ‘What is John Smith
doing?’ was very much connected with the British media’s love
affair with negativity. The more John Major screws up the
more the banner headlines scream. John Smith’s competence
and humour and quiet strength didn’t sell newspapers until they
became his epitaph.
Tea with Ruby. Or rather ‘would you read these scripts?’
14 May
Reading scripts. More No’s.
Phone calls.
Answering mail. And still the requests for money pile up.
People don’t know what else to do now.
To the dry cleaners in the rain.
Watching the cup final.
Reading.
Making supper.
Watching TV. Roger calls back. He’s finished the film.
Doesn’t know about the screening in Paris. Is, understandably,
pissed off. And now what? with this saga.

19 May
3.30 Stephen Poliakoff. Hard to be objective with a terrier’s
teeth sunk into your trouser leg.

20 May
Watching John Smith’s funeral on TV, as I get ready to be
photographed – this life stuffed with weird juxtapositions. The
solemn and the frivolous. Maybe it infected my mood because
Andreas Neubauer, the photographer, had to wait quite a while
to get anything alive. He’d worked hard, too. The hotel was a
good location – orange bedspread and poppy wallpaper and
various Ortonesque corridors.
2.30 To Tower Bridge and Wharfland. Peeling doors, rusting
railings – even a dead rat in one spot. Gradually I could feel my
face muscles yield and I think towards the end of a long day he
got some photographs.

21 May
12.30 Flight to Paris. Straight out to find Irié’s shop. Rima
chooses clothes and I. is there, too. Charming and shy as ever.
Fortunately, given the armful of items, he also comes armed
with a discount.
Then some Paris wandering. Shoe shops, coffee bars – chairs
pointing outwards at the world – it is a city where you need
never be embarrassed by being alone in a café.

22 May
Breakfast – always more fun in hotels . . . Watch Margaret
Beckett being very impressive on the Frost show. Rima thinks
she shouldn’t be dumped as Deputy.

23 May
1pm The French House dining room – lunch with Terry
Hands.26 I used to find him so alarming – for his part he
describes my big failing while at the RSC as due to my
‘diffidence, lack of anger’ – there’s a connection there
somewhere . . . Whatever I may think of some of his past work
– visual ornateness, too much leather – he loves actors and
understands them.

24 May
8pm Dinner with Ruby, Shere Hite and Kirsty Lang27 at the
Neal Street Restaurant. Incredibly snotty receptionist and over-
attentive staff. Very good food. Great conversation – Europe,
Feminism, the names of SH’s brothel (Hite Site – mine; SH
Gives Blow Jobs Here – Ruby’s).

30 May
8 To the Thai restaurant with Dexter28 and Dalia. I must try
not to be sucked into other people’s problems when all it does
is drain my energy.

1 June
11am Dexter F. comes by to collect money for mortgage. We
organise it via telegraphic transfer – this, however, is England so
it’s not possible without encountering Mr and Mrs Jobsworth at
occasional turns.
Sharman Macd.29 and Robin Don [theatre designer] come
by & we go to 192 to talk of Winter Guest and its possible
mounting at the Tramway in Glasgow. Must avoid the
temptation to talk this play into the ground – it’s a fragile,
enigmatic creature.

2 June
11ish Ruby comes by.
1pm Dentist. When was bleach this expensive? Not to say
stinging. Or I was stung.
7.30 Happy Days [by Samuel Beckett] at the French Institute.
Angela Pleasence30 & Peter Bayliss. She’s had a rough ride
with Simone Benmussa31 but whatever the rights and wrongs
you cannot have a situation where an actress this talented is so
scared that she is this inaudible. Afterwards Pasta Restaurant
SW7 we talk of it all. She’ll pitch it up tomorrow. Otherwise
who are we doing it for? What a great play, though.

3 June
The poetry of ordinary speech – Justin Webb interviewing two
WW2 (June 6 is D-Day 50 years) veterans on Breakfast News
asks them ‘Is it always with you, can you ever put it out of your
mind?’ Ernest says it’s hard when you go to cemeteries with all
your mates around you. Ron says ‘I like it in the graveyards. I
want to go to where my best mate is buried. He was killed
right in front of me. He turned to me and said “What a day,
Blanco!” Bang. Gone. Just like that.’

6 June
8ish To Ruby – we cook some pasta. She gives me her point of
view or not – which basically is that I procrastinate to an
awesome degree – true but not as negatively as she suggests.
She who casts out people weaker than she. I know what she
means but can she be right (to live like that)?

7 June
Write to Brian Friel – say no to his play.
pm – in the local hardware shop looking for spray for black
fly when I hear the radio announcement of Dennis Potter’s
death. I assume he might have approved of the juxtaposition.

9 June
7.30 A Month in the Country Helen Mirren a beacon amidst the
fog. So unselfish, so unaffected by the quicksand she is standing
in.

12 June
A peaceful, sunny quiet day. Rima marking exams in the
garden. Me pottering about.
Eventually reading scripts of Persuasion and Madness of George.
Both no.
Eventually watch the Euro Election results. Labour pulling
seats now. The ironic sight of Glenys K. winning her seat with
Neil on her arm. 15 years of telling people it’s OK to be selfish
shites. Now a little common sense is winnowing upwards as we
realise it’s no way to live a life, but meanwhile Glenys & Neil
are in the wake. I ought to feel jubilant. I feel resentful.

14 June
Phone call from Roger Sp. in LA. The Mesmer saga runs and
runs. Clearly Mayfair are philistines – the Louis & Maria A.
scene is to their minds ‘disgusting’. Where’s the love story? Did
they not notice the name Dennis Potter on the script?

15 June
→ to 192 for some lunch and to send flowers to Juliet who’s
had a girl after days in labour – 9lbs of agony.
20 June
Desultory days.
Some phone calls arranging future plans.
Listening to the answering machine and not picking up.
The first day of Wimbledon.
Eventually – not going to the Red Fort (Indian restaurant).
Feeling somewhat used.
A day like this is no way to live one’s life but may be
necessary breathing space, an opportunity to create some focus.

25 June
From the nasty little man in the tailor’s – ‘This is rather difficult
why do you buy jackets like this if they are impossible to alter –
please could you stand over there, no not there you are in my
light – would you like to do the alteration?’ Answer – no, but
(gathering everything up) I’ll ask someone else. Thank you.

29 June
If a day can be schizophrenic then this was it. Margaret32 rings
to say Mum is being taken into hospital. It is like suddenly
finding yourself in the freezer. And then practicality kicks in. A
few phone calls, taxi to the house. Taxi to Hammersmith
Hospital. Michael is in the waiting room of Casualty. Mum in a
cubicle with an oxygen mask. Breathing is hard but otherwise
OK. A lot of questions, a lot of waiting. The woman in the
cubicle opposite in response to her daughter’s ‘Can I get you
anything, Mum?’ says ‘A dose of poison.’ Good old emotional
blackmail lives on. Eventually to the ward. Nurses incredibly
caring and gentle. More questions. Yes she looks after herself.
Yes she gets her own meals. A piece of toast for breakfast, a
ham sandwich for lunch, yes a cooked meal in the evening,
maybe chicken and chips. All pretty levelling. So appropriate
that I leave to go to a First Night. The Cryptogram . . .
Afterwards we escape the crush and go to Orso.
1 July
1pm Orso lunch for Thelma CBE. Thelma’s diary would be
compulsive reading. ‘Going to the theatre with Gore Vidal.
After 10 mins he wanted to leave. I said, “You can’t leave you’re
famous and everyone will notice.” “Oh,” he said. In the
interval I said, “Look everyone’s staring at you,” they weren’t of
course, but he stood there nodding and smiling . . .’
To the hospital where my mother’s stories are echoing up the
ward as I arrive . . .

2 July
Decide against the 1pm matinée of Millennium Approaches33 in
favour of watching Martina Navratilova. I should have known.
She lost. I’d like to meet her – in the interview afterwards she
talks of finding out what she may do as a ‘productive human
being’. She’s not just a serve and volley person.

3 July
Yesterday’s whim is now fact. 7am Marcy Kahan [playwright]
arrives. 7.15 the taxi and off for the 8.30 flight to Paris.
Lunch at La Closerie des Lilas w. Susanna S., Isabelle DuBar
& Laurent. Really wonderful – duck with lime & figs. Pinch
some of Rima’s lamb – also worth flying over for.
And on to L’Odeon for the 3pm performance of Orlando
with Isabelle Huppert directed by Robert Wilson.34 Truly one
of the most extraordinary acting feats I’ve ever seen – freedom
of spirit and technical mastery in complete harmony.
In the dressing room after Isabelle as open, charming, clear-
sighted & unsentimental as ever.
A slightly dazed wander in Luxembourg Gardens afterwards,
a coffee, citron pressé, ice cream. Airport. Fly home.

4 July
1.30 Car picks me up to take me to Beaconsfield. National
Film School. Watch Hudsucker Proxy. Coen Bros’ supposed
homage to It’s a Wonderful Life, His Girl Friday etc. In the end,
it’s a sluggish & directionless pastiche – Tim Robbins warm
and friendly at the centre, Jennifer Jason Leigh being brilliant
and cold on the outskirts. Talk of this and much else with a
roomful of screenwriting course applicants afterwards. It’s an
exercise in keeping on the subject, not letting it be ‘And what
do you eat for breakfast?’ Mostly it succeeds but on leaving one
of them asks me how he can get a script to Bruce Willis.

6 July
3pm RADA – 30-odd students about to step out of the womb.
Can’t think too much about being in Room 14 with boot
firmly on the other foot. Everything in their faces from open
and charmed to reluctant and sceptical. Somehow, as always,
we get on to politics. And Hollywood. And the theatre. I liked
them on the whole, and shaped a few thoughts that were
previously v. muddled.

7 July
9.30 To Belinda and Hugh for their Northumberland Place
street party. England at its weirdest. Bring your table out into
the street and have a dinner party with dozens of others but
don’t introduce anyone.

9 July
8pm (After finding gifts at Waterstone’s) Glenys Kinnock’s
birthday party at the Viceroy of India – great as I’m starving.
Dancing Indian girls. Around and about – Ian McKellen,
Michael Foot, Folletts K. & B.,35 Harriet Harman, Gordon
Brown etc., etc. At one point I saw Michael Foot with his stick
walking past the very uptight Tony Blair in a beige suit. Labour
Party bookends.

14 July
Taxi to RADA for 2.30 council meeting. First one – Lord A.36
is chairman. I sit between Sir Anthony H. & Sylvia Syms.
Move on to the 4.30 AGM – a nightmare with the
American witch woman – who is she? – her first associates
meeting but she dictates, bosses and just plain talks. People bail
out. At the end I go with Paul to look at the props room.
Impressive man & organisation. On the way out I encounter
the Stepford wife. A hideous scene on the pavement. She
invokes the spirit of Thatcher, Reagan, Churchill. So why
bother? Why get angry? What can you say to ‘Students should
pay their own way – Communism is dead etc., etc’. It finishes
with her saying ‘Grow up’ & me saying ‘Wake up’ as she misses
a taxi. Ha ha ha.

15 July
7–7.30 To the hospitality room at the BBC & then to the
gallery for Ruby’s taping.
Some inspired madness between her and Tony Slattery and
some of the old less welcome bullying [of] your guest.
To the Patio for supper – tiredness and too much bad wine
must have meant I was talking total gibberish to the ever-
patient Peter Richardson.37

16 July
← and also means waking up with a hangover – still dizzy, keep
the head facing forward . . .

17 July
The World Cup final looks all wrong from the beginning – the
stands in the Pasadena Rose Bowl are not high enough for
drama, we are reminded of a game in the park. It all comes
down to a penalty shootout so the drama makes a comeback
but how to live with it if it was you who missed?38

20 July
Sometimes phone calls should be taped – speaking to Bettina
Jonic39 this morning, in 45 minutes a whistlestop tour of Helen
Weigel,40 Lotte Lenya41 (Weigel stopped the first performance
of Happy Days by reading a treatise instead of singing), Samuel
Beckett, separate rooms, then separate entrances for Suzanne
his wife but she it was who banged on doors with Godot.
Ionescu talking of slicing his wife up to be sure she died before
him (she’s still alive).
These are stories to listen to on hot, desultory days which
are otherwise filled with picking up registered mail
(photographs by Andreas Neubauer – I remember this session,
who is this person?) being home for Gerry the plumber to fix
the water pressure, eating too many sweet things.

21 July
The life mind and times of a Piscean. While half of me is saying
– no, don’t go, it’s a mistake, the other half is ironing the shirt
and ordering a taxi. To Museum of the Moving Image for the
Cinema 100 launch and a line-up for Prince Charles. Juliet,
Jeremy Irons, Richard E. Grant, Joan Plowright, Rita
Tushingham, Dickie A., Sir John Mills. Chit chat and mineral
water beforehand. Then Charles arrives – does the semi circle
with, incredibly, something relevant to say to everyone; a
cinema show & speeches, then lunch and talk with A. Yentob
& Colin McCabe.42 David Puttnam comes from the
‘coronation’ of Tony Blair and tells me my name is down to
speak at a debate at the party conference.
To the hospital to steer Mum to some safe harbour. Ruby
arrives and makes everyone laugh; we go to the River Cafe
with Ed, Alan Wanzenberg [old friend of Ruby’s] & Jed [his
partner]. And suddenly from nowhere there is Irène Jacob.
With Rufus Sewell. And a movie team. Much laughing from
our table – Ruby’s stories never fail. Talk to Judy Hoflund later
– she’s pregnant. ‘Don’t worry – I was back at work after 10
days last time.’
 Worry? Me?? Today has been stuffed with after images.
Jeremy’s doing Die Hard 3. Irène didn’t do Mesmer. Richard E.
did do Jack & Sarah. Rufus is doing Carrington.

1 August
A morning of sudden, ferocious energy. Watching myself make
things happen. In a few phone calls appointments with
architects, tickets at the National, wheelchairs ordered and
delivered and finally a trip to Glyndebourne is arranged – for
today – get ready in an hour & a half and get to Victoria
Station (in black tie).
Meet Fiona & Deborah – one of the major terrible twos in
the art world. Hildegard joins and we’re on the train to
Glyndebourne. When you get there – there it all is – a bit of
little Olde England still determinedly putting out its collapsible
chairs, sandwiches, champagne (one guy all alone with his
Fortnum hamper, another group with a fucking flower
arrangement). I kept thinking ‘someone with a machine gun
will appear any minute’. The cows ambled around trying
different groups.
Don Giovanni – of course full of wonderful challenging ideas
but the singers so far from fulfilling those ideas as actors that I
worry for Deborah’s non-ability to self-criticise. And Fiona’s.
And probably mine if caught in a situation like this. Some of it
was just embarrassing – the chorus doing the Twist in clothes
from La Dolce Vita.
Chase home. Speed bath.

10 August
4 hours’ sleep before the 7.45 pick-up drive to Heathrow and
the 10.10 flight to Pisa → train to Pisa Central → train to
Grosseto. Beautiful walled town, public holiday, everything’s
shut, walk around the shuttered windows, snooze at the hotel,
go out for some dinner (if anything’s open) find the obviously
annual relay race around the old town going on (the blue team
won), the whole town watching, families everywhere, little
children running around or sitting on laps in cafés (even at
midnight) totally included. A practised sixth sense leads us to the
big open-air pizzeria, red wine, salad, coffee, perfect.
Family of four at one table – Mama blowing on forkful of
pizza before putting it in younger daughter’s mouth. All around
tables of 6, 8, 10 people – no muzak, just chatter. And a clean
white tablecloth for every new set of customers.

11 August
Breakfast in the room before wandering to Café Canducci to
meet Dalia who runs up looking tanned and wearing a straw
hat. We go find Harriet Cruickshank [film producer] &
Duncan MacAskill [artist] and take a rip off taxi ride to
Talamone (by sea) for beer and lunch. Taxi back, get out before
Polizei spot that 5 of us are on board. Back to hotel for snooze,
Dalia to take shower and arrange 7pm pick-up to go to
Castiglione. The taxi driver has a friend with a boat and there
the magic begins . . .
We sail right into the sunset towards Elba. As the sun
disappeared – throwing the rocks and tower into the blackest
against pinkest relief – the crescent moon sharpened and a flock
of birds seemed suddenly released to say hello. We thudded
back to the Darsena Ristorante for wondrous fish, salad, salmon
carpaccio, french fries, lemon sorbet, espresso, local wine. An
extraordinary evening is completed with 100mph dash back
with Giofreddo the cab driver and dancing in the square. Old,
young, blondes, bald heads all smiling and moving to the music
at midnight. Very, very special hours.

12 August
11.45 – Bus to Siena. Peaceful, empty air-conditioned
motorway trip through postcard Tuscany to this glorious town.
The first view of Piazza del Campo vies with Piazza Navona or
rounding the bay to Sydney Harbour. Sit under brown
umbrellas as the sand for the horses blows about – crostini,
spaghetti pomodoro, salad, happiness . . . Total harmony of
window against brick, roof against wall, doorway against
bleachers (there for the horse races – July 2, August 16; one can
only imagine the pulse rates). Climb the tower of the town hall
– dizzy-making in every respect. On to the Duomo – like
being in a vast Licorice Allsort – and San Domenico, rush, rush
for the bus which is 25 mins late but never mind because the
drive home is everything Van Gogh waded through.
Breathtaking is a word that gets slung about, but here it’s apt.
And in the middle of it all people just go about their lives in
the most direct uncomplicated way, it seems. And talking,
talking, talking.

14 August
To Saul Zaentz43 and Annette [his wife] for lunch with them,
Anthony M., Barbara, Carolyn, Max [the Minghellas’ son],
Michael Ondaatje, Judy Daish, Angy, Dalia, Maria B.44 More
idyll, more food, more swimming, much laughter. Saul & Angy
real wits. We all set out for Batignano and Don Giovanni.
Dexter is there with Steve & little Jack (after we have failed to
get into the local restaurant). We all sit under the
stars . . . We’ve had the tour of the convent – now we’re sitting
in the audience. This production is of course so different from
Glyndebourne – the name Maria Bjornson would tell you that
– but really rich and enjoyable in its own way. Sue Blane
[costume designer] was there (and Leon Brittan . . .). It was all
another neon-lit element in a great week. Holidays . . . Saul
and Annette drive us back to the Bastiani at 1.30am. Tired but
happy but full of English Patient thoughts. Timing, timing.
‘Night and day, I slave away . . .’

16 August
Get up and out by 9am and down to Grosseto Station to
discover that the 9.35 to Pisa is actually 9.25. Maria Bjornson
& Rachel at another ticket window so we wander back to Café
Carducci. Maria talks of disillusion, maybe temporarily relieved
by working with Dalia, and for once being included in the
process. The old story . . .
 Some meandering – buy a teapot from a great old shop in a
side street and eventually get back to the station for the 12.38.
Dalia’s there with armfuls of luggage I had vowed to have
nothing to do with. Stagger on to the train, stagger off at Pisa,
leave it all in left luggage, go look at Tower/Duomo/Baptistry.
Pisa is a very haphazard, resentful sort of place. Any old fencing
will do, very ordinary food, lots of horrible souvenirs. The
inside of the cathedral however is staggering (word du jour).
How many gobsmacking churches are there? Pisa Airport →
London → a pile of mail.

19 August
4pm Catherine [Bailey] and Rosie come to talk about the
Mesmer documentary which I just watched. It’s good, but at the
moment one scene has to be removed to save my blushes and
other people’s feelings. Never say this is off the record, someone
will use it anyway. The film needs more facts and a more
definite point of view.

20 August
Sometimes the sensation of being a personal launderette service
– friendship must not become a space for indulgence. Listening
to casting problems, rehearsal problems, photograph problems.
There is a point at which they walk away stronger and you are
exhausted. This cannot be right . . .

21 August
→ to the Odeon Kensington. Long queue. Rescued by Alice
Pollock45 and we’re in to see The Last Seduction – great reviews,
Linda Fiorentino, etc., etc. Bodes well. But a deeply cynical,
joyless, diminishing piece of work and we decide to leave. An
espresso is more rewarding.

25 August
To Toronto 1pm.
 What with packing, telephone calls (including one with the
carbonated Hilary Heath . . .46), I managed to leave jackets and
trousers behind. Now, either some nimble use of jeans and T
shirts is required or the even nimbler use of the Amex card.

28 August
Montreal.
11 First screening of Mesmer. A full house in the Imperial – a
beautiful theatre – tiered and red-plushed. Speaking in French
turns out to be less alarming than the prospect was.
Then a day of interviews begins and with it the battle to be
honest, informative, but guarded . . .
9.30 Second screening of Mesmer . . . Watch some of it from
the circle. Immediately depressing sense of what it could have
been.

29 August
A wander to the Musée des Beaux Arts – Lichtenstein and de
Lempicka – it’s Monday, the museum is closed. As a comfort
sweet, I toy with the idea of spending $1200 on a jacket. The
temptation is resisted. I really haven’t seen Montreal on this trip
and anyway junkets tend to dull your curiosity – you might get
excited and the guard would drop and that would never do.
Mesmer has been received extraordinarily well. Seconds out.
Round 2.
5.30 Montreal airport. Charles Dance there – a genuinely
nice man.

1 September
One of these really lousy days when you think ‘what have I
done?’
Today also brings an invitation to appear on Question Time.
The very definition of ‘you must be joking’ . . .

4 September
Sweeping up leaves is good therapy for almost everything. Dalia
calls – she comes over to supper. Duck, roast potatoes. One
forgets that one duck just about feeds two people.

5 September
8pm Elizabeth & Alessandro Lunardi47 come over and when
Rima (eventually) gets back from the town hall we go to the
Ivy. A fine feast. Talk of Italy and Italians. Walk on Waterloo
Bridge. Home.

6 September
Early morning letter-writing as a result of a 5am wake-up as a
result of brooding over builders’ bills, tax, etc., etc. (Oh for a
Tuscan farmhouse, a glass of wine and a piece of cheese.)
The phone rings and Andras [co-producer on Mesmer] brings
news of a Best Actor Award from Montreal. This is heart-
warming as it makes Mayfair look more and more, shall we say,
misguided.
Il Gallo D’Oro lunch with Hilary Heath – still a girl really,
with a big heart and conversation like a jack-knife.
Later to 12 Upper A.48 More details with Peter [Mishcon,
architect] & Brian D. [builder]. Now we have to slow these
spiralling thousands.

7 September
The walls we are surrounded by – the objects we fill the spaces
with – the lives they all describe.
Taking my mother from a house stuffed with collected bits
of furniture, pieces of paper, magazines, old biros neatly lined
up with emery boards and a teaspoon – off to Chartwell
House; purpose built for the elderly genteel. It’s all on one level
and the staff are terrific. It keeps me reassured and guilty – a
rare combination. We’ll see.
12 Upper Addison is another phenomenon. Vast sums being
spent on fastidious details – a millimetre here, a maple strip
there.
My own home (it’s Wednesday and Janet has been) looks like
a film set. Abandoned for the night. Waiting for a story. And
then a letter from Rima’s dad, living in a home. Calling it an
asylum – being caught naked on the lavatory. Lights out at
9pm.

8 September
Most of the day spent at Chartwell House. My life is in such
clear-cut strands at the moment. Career, Architect, Subsidence,
Other People’s Careers, Relationships. Seemingly in that order.
Today was almost exclusively about my mother. Just spending
time in this new environment, calling the doctor, testing her
hearing, wrapping her up and taking her and her wheelchair
for a walk to get the prescription, looking on helplessly at
today’s pain and her fury at it. I don’t know what I become
under these circumstances – a kind of amorphous bundle of
past and present. I have to kick myself towards the phone to
attend to some of the other members of the above list. The
strands. Later Eileen [A.R.’s cousin] and boyfriend and 2
daughters come by. Some of my childhood, cousins, aunts &
uncles, swim before me. Then Rima arrives and reduces me to
silence for the rest of the evening. Is this control, depression or
exhaustion?

9 September
10.30 De Lane Lea [Studios] (in not the best mental state) for a
screening of Awfully Big Adventure. Just Mike Newell, the sound
engineer and me. It’s a mosaic, or an attic of a movie. Jumbled
and intense, full of dark corners and sudden hilarious surprises.
God knows what America will make of it – or if they will
know how to watch it. You can’t be passive – the audience has
to work a bit. Maybe its kaleidoscopic quality is a little too hard
to watch and it could linger a little more often. At all events it
has a bundle of good performances – I can’t tell about Hugh
[Grant], Georgina or me. Too much sense of competition, or
the memory still hangs in the air. But Ms Cates suffers from
only functioning from her sense of the story. She listens to
nothing, responds to nothing. She’s a butterfly inside her own
glass case, watching herself bat around.
A car to Heathrow and then, appropriately enough, to
Dublin. Conor’s at the Davenport Hotel. We eat something,
then I bump into Shelagh Stephenson49 – a Guinness at Davy
B’s50 then to the Peacock for Asylum Asylum by David O’Kerry
– really good writing, direction, acting.

10 September
Sleep late then go into town to meet Conor . . . Background
information from last night’s play fills out the whole
experience. The neurotic actor, the mean actor, the actress
who always goes straight home.
To the airport – bliss, I’m in the back seat and can spread
across three seats. Taxi to Chartwell House, find Rima and
Mum. Home to get ready for Lady Windermere’s Fan. Me,
Rima, and Belinda and along the row Raine Spencer51. All I
could think about was poor sod in the seat behind all that hair.

12 September
3.30 to 12UA. Something sheepish in the air – as well there
might be when I finally discover where the bill is going, that is
into the stratosphere.

13 September
Take Mum home from Chartwell House, leaving her to think
about all the options.
Home to find Gilly working in the garden . . . we won a
Residents’ Association award for the front garden . . .
Marcia arrives. Rima arrives. We go to the Lyric
Hammersmith to The Picture of Dorian Gray. It’s Neil Bartlett’s
first show of his tenure and we speak at the top of a flight of
steps, so I’m all in favour, wishing it well and all that but try as
I might, it either stays resolutely on the stage or flies straight
over my head. No contact is made.

21 September
Andreas comes over. My function is to listen, challenge and
supply possible leads as to an escape from his current hell. So
easy to slip into bullshit when talking to someone who is
bereaved. The English are well-trained. Years of . . . rehearsing
platitudes. At least we talked about Briny and about how he
was feeling – and laughed. In the end, having been over the
spiritual/philosophical sand dunes, he went off to audition for a
vodka commercial.

25 September
Lunch at the Connaught with Rima and ever-generous
Richard Wilson. A day of shifting sands with old friends.
Lunch involves wearing a tie and paying £35 for a piece of fish
(plus, I suppose, silverware, French waiters, flowers on the table
and oak panelling). Nearby a table-full of Wodehouse refugees
– in fact a room full of regulars. Except us. The thing I really
hate about wine waiters is their insistence on refilling the glass
after one’s every mouthful.

29 September
am 12UA. To discuss skirting boards.

1 October
11ish To Books Etc., to find a gift for Denis Lawson. Robert
Evans’ autobiography52 fits the bill.

2 October
The Sunday papers carry previews of tomorrow’s Late Show
Special (already rubbished by yesterday’s Guardian)53 and the
sensation increases during the day of having been silently
mugged. I have to recognise the dangers of actors talking about
themselves (unless you have an American accent – an hour’s
profile tonight of Dennis Hopper produces no sharpened claws
– if you are English get the Elastoplast ready) but are we always
to be so patronised, can we never talk about our work without
being forced to trivialise it?

4 October
7.30am and the phone rings, clearing my head . . .
As a result of which the day has a lightness that is mostly
energising, a little dizzy-making. Mostly, people responded well
to last night’s programme – I swerved away from the newsprint.
6pm Groucho Club to meet with Peter Richardson and
Stephen Fry to talk of the film project. Stephen looks ashen –
he’s been experiencing the Rottweiler element in the press. A
kind of blooding.

6 October
Last night and today thinking of yesterday’s delivery of the 2
inch thick file of Mayfair’s objections. Looming large is their
complaint that at one point ‘Tears did not spring to my eyes’ –
how do you take this nonsense seriously?54
Watched the Imagine film and wept a bit with all the others
at the end. As one girl was saying ‘We grew up with them.’
And Lennon was so articulate esp in the face of Al Capp & the
NY Times woman. Not a lazy answer anywhere. An enviable
grown-up man.

10 October
Difficult days. Judy says Winter Guest can go into rehearsal
December 16. Everyone is thrilled. What is this I feel.
Hijacked?
1.15 RADA Council meeting. Attenborough is an extra
special man. Courteous to a fault, aware of every nuance in the
room, and open enough to be excited by the idea of staying
with Nelson Mandela. On an obsessive day like this he is an
object lesson in how to live your life in all directions at once.
12 October
6.30 20th C. Fox screening room. An Awfully Big Adventure
shown to British Screen Investors. I am surrounded by people
nervous of their own opinions. The film is too long and the
opening is difficult & at the moment I don’t know if there is an
audience who knows how to watch it.

13 October
1pm Lunch at La Fenice with Judy Daish. The maître d’ is as
rude as ever. We talk through a running order for Dennis
Potter’s memorial service. It comes together fairly easily – on
the page. Such ironies . . .

14 October
Ladybird, Ladybird at the Lumière. About 5 mins in I was
folding my arms and starting to raise an eyebrow. What is this
film about?? It’s too easy to attack the social services and I don’t
think we are given all the facts. Crissy Rock55 engages
sympathy and never loses it, really. But of course it makes almost
everything else ultimately look foolish.

15 October
8 To Ruby and Ed for a brief glimpse of Ruby’s interview with
Madonna. But who’s doing all the talking? Guess. Finally, some
very funny moments.

16 October
To Mum who is immovable and vulnerable.
This is not a great day to be sure of what-it’s-all-about. I can
see obligations, old patterns and not sinking in superficiality but
where, exactly, is the nourishment?

17 October
8.20 Forrest Gump. I had sworn I wouldn’t go. I went and it was
as horrific as I had thought but in a totally different way. A
clear attempt had been made to dilute the sentimentality, but
along the way the film has its cake, eats it and spits it out with
Vietnam, ‘unnamed viruses’ etc.
Late – Malabar – where Ruby’s waters once broke.

18 October
4ish 12UA. The bill is soaring. I should be getting angry now –
what is the point? A major school of buck passing is going on
and still the job has to be finished.

20 October
1pm Joyce Nettles for lunch at L’Accento. The first time I’ve
worked with a casting director like this. I don’t quite feel the
ground beneath my feet.
And on to the Carrington screening – just what the doctor
might not have chosen to order. This is like a sustained
mugging.

21 October
pm 12UA, Paint colours . . . Blood red springs to mind . . .

23 October
To 12UA. An attempt to get some lower estimates.
To the Odeon West End – cast and crew screening of
Awfully Big Adventure. Tapping on windows to be let in; Mike
N. & Philip H[inchcliffe, producer] oblige, Hilary [Heath]’s on
a landing with Ms Cates. I find it impossible to be other than
cool. The film looks beautiful on a big screen.

24 October
To 12UA. A tiling crisis. Who? How much? When? With a bit
of affronted dignity threading through it. Colours are starting
to go on now and starting to look great.

25 October
VIENNA.
To the cinema for the [Mesmer] screening. I can’t watch.
Roger and I find a bar – he depressed the life out of me with
stories of Mayfair and their philistinism.

29 October
8.45 Pulp Fiction – Brilliant and empty. Original and
repetitious. Like reading a v.v. classy comic – if you’re going to
be a gangster, that is . . .

31 October
am Spent poring over Mayfair’s legal statements. Bullshit is the
horse-blanket shroud – safety instead of discovery.
8 → Go to the Ivy. Dinner with Malcolm McLaren &
Michelle Guish [casting director]. VV entertaining. And NO
BULLSHIT!!

1 November
9am Dennis Potter’s memorial service at St James’s, Piccadilly.
At the beginning the Rev. Donald Reeves seems like he’s
without any trace of humour – dangerous. But no, eventually
his true colours show and by the time the service starts his full
colours are flying and we are told to sing ‘Roll Along Prairie
Moon’ again because we could do better. The hour passes full
of the most wonderful words and music from Potter to Hazlitt,
from Imelda Staunton singing ‘Roses Of Picardy’ to Mozart’s
‘Kyrie’. [Michael] Grade, [Alan] Yentob & Trodd56 were
wonderfully funny, Grade knowing we might break down at
any moment from the rehearsal, Trodd recalling Potter’s
mournful statement that one thing preoccupied him about
death. That Trodd might speak at his memorial service.

2 November
And another 9am. This time lawyers, tables, water, papers, thin
smiles. The thinnest from me to Scorer57 as I went into the
room.
 A tremendously nerve wracking experience – justifying my
right to interpret a script – what decade is this? In the end I
found a speech from somewhere near my gut and with no erms
and aahs. I can only hope it was Potter, pausing briefly from
laughter to lend a bit of a helping hand. Spent the rest of the
day feeling demeaned and soiled, and terribly, terribly sad. I
can only assume the utter symmetry of these two days has some
greater purpose.

3 November
To ICM. Whip through some transparencies. Present myself
with my Montreal award while eating half a sandwich.
Home to get things up on Winter Guest – casting, meetings
etc.

4 November
Middayish – to 12UA. The bedroom is the wrong colour again.
Not my fault, this time.

10 November
Boot on the other foot day – interviewing young actors for The
Winter Guest. Trying to be open to them – not difficult since
Joyce Nettles has arranged a great selection – all so different. At
this point only ½ an idea who to cast.

11 November
3pm Ruby – of course I should have known. She wanted help
to sharpen a new show.

12 November
7.15 Camden Grand.
With my newly crafted speech to introduce Tony Blair to a
full house. I’m nervous, he’s last-minute adjusting. Ben Elton
does a brilliant set about ‘garnish’ – which is exactly what we
are it occurs to me now. Blair’s off the minute his speech is over
to talk to Indian businessmen at the House of Commons –
‘same speech?’ I wittily enquire. ‘You need a mental lap-top.’
‘I’ve got one,’ he says. His speech is a touch lazy, not truly
geared to the audience and woolly round the edges. Kinnock,
however, is dazzling – received like a hero. ‘Bless them,’ says
Glenys, who at the end looks into the audience with such a
private loving admiration as Neil is in the wings singing ‘Happy
Days’ with the gospel choir. Maybe Blair’s detachment will
make him a successful leader. But Neil remembers to bring his
heart like his front door keys.

15 November
5.30 Plane to Edinburgh. Collected by Scott [Thomas, film
editor]. Taken to the Youth Theatre (W. Lothian) workshop.
Have to be very animal in picking kids but there are a definite
trio . . . Drinks with Scott in hotel bar & → Caledonian Hotel.
Luxury and a club sandwich.

16 November
Train to Glasgow and . . . on to RSAMD for a day of hello,
sorry, come in, this is the story, what did you think about,
would you mind reading . . . The building is a disgrace – who
came up with this echoing hospital as somewhere to study
voice, music, movement?
Writing this, I have subliminal memories of people who
seemed righter, more talented than others. The boot very
much on the other foot. Even more so at the end of the day
when going in to talk to maybe 100 students.
Train back to Edinburgh. Completely knackered. All that
politeness.

17 November
10.30 Royal Lyceum.
At least they had made a pot of coffee. I discover these things
matter. And courtesy, and openness. And no bullshit. More
talent – more questions. It could go in several directions.
 Lunchtime at the Traverse café with Elizabeth Millbank who
introduces herself. A much-admired actress – she reminds me I
suggested her to Howard Davies a few years ago. She’s certainly
open – like meeting an old friend. And she introduces me to
Philip Howard [then Associate Director] who shows me around
this stunning new theatre – Lyceum, Usher Hall, Traverse, a
curve of culture.
6.45 Another W. Lothian Youth Theatre workshop – less
successful but Scott’s enthusiasm is a plus, as is dinner in a Thai
restaurant with his girlfriend & friend of. People at an adjacent
table stare a lot and eventually get a friend to phone the
restaurant to check if I am me. At this point tiredness makes me
wonder . . .

18 November
Edinburgh.
Phone call from LA is from such another world – can they
cannibalise me even more from Die Hard for DH3?

20 November
Thank you to the middle-of-the-night pissed joker who
rewrote my breakfast order so that I had fish and pineapple
juice delivered at 7.20am instead of toast and coffee at 8.30 . . .

21 November
11.45 To the Almeida to talk with Joyce and Sharman about
the Scotland trip. This bit is hard – playing a sort of God with
people’s lives. Just deciding is difficult enough.
Watching the annual Evening Standard Drama Awards on TV.
Grace and disgrace so close together. Disgraceful, really, this
need to back slap but if it has to happen accept with the grace
of Peter Brook.

23 November
Arwen Holm phones to tell me of a nasty little piece in the
Telegraph saying how unsmiling I was in the local deli.

25 November
Thanksgiving party at Sandra & Michael Kamen’s. All I wanted
was an autograph book – Kate Bush, Bryan Adams, David
Bowie, Stevie Winwood.

26 November
9.15 Joyce and a taxi to go to Heathrow for the 11am flight to
Glasgow and on to the Athenaeum for the workshop at the
Scottish Youth Theatre. A two hour whip around Sean,
Douglas, Anthony, Andrew, Brian, David, John-Ross and
John.58 All wonderful, all different. I’m a little too tired to be
inspired but thank God for Joyce who fills the parents with
confidence. After, Christian Zanone59 and family come in to
talk it all through.
One of those days that has no rules – time passes too quickly,
a lot of it one would like to rewind or re-do. But there it was –
a great sprawling, hopeful splurge of a day.

27 November
Royal Albert Hall – Elton John and Ray Cooper. Elton really
fills that great space, helped, it turns out, by Ray Cooper who
plays drums like a dancer might. But the secret with both of
them is relaxation.

2 December
Supper at home for Lindsay, Hilton, Jane, Mark, Allan and Fifi.
I am feeling so distracted but manage to tap dance here and
there. And anyway it’s a room full of people you could have a
breakdown in front of, which is always reassuring.
Later – a bottle of champagne or a port – midnight visit to
12UA. Fifi sitting in the bath.

4 December
7.45 Curzon West End for the Almeida Fund Raiser of Vanya
on 42 Street. No one, sadly, told me it was a Mayfair film.
Scorer walks towards me, hand sort of outstretched. ‘Some day,
we must sit down and talk.’ ‘About what?’ I manage. ‘The
truth,’ he replies.

7 December
8pm Sandra & Michael Kamen – impossible, really, to believe –
violins, cello, flute, oboe, harp and eventually Nigel Kennedy
in the Kamen front room playing Bach and Brahms for maybe
10 of us. A wonderful guilty treat.

9 December
2.30 Michael Kamen – who has the shortest attention span. He’s
so gifted he’s finished before he’s started and bored with it
before we got properly interested. Hard to infiltrate that
rhythm. But melodies pour out of him.

11 December
To 12UA with Dalia, vacuum, mops and buckets. Honest toil
to add to the dishonest expense. It could hardly redress the
balance but a bit . . .

12 December
Taxi to St George’s Theatre for first day rehearsals of The
Winter Guest. Fiddling with text, cuts, gathering of information
for John and Anthony60 (who turns out over lunch to be a big
fan of Frank Capra & Orson Welles as well as Tarantino . . .).
So they can write their essays and diaries.
pm John-Ross and David arrive. Certainly 4 temperaments
which is great – but they seem to feed into each other really
well.
And why don’t we all go to the theatre together. And, why
not (eventually) make it Les Miserables – a show, I thought, I
would never see. Surprisingly it is played with 100% high
octane energy and commitment. Bully for them. But still –
watching the Red Flag waving at all these £30 a head multi-
national audience members is a weird sight.

13 December
St George’s Theatre.
Alternating boys all day – four very different personalities
emerging.
John-Ross – Nirvana, Guns & Roses, Science Fiction,
Baseball cap. Great at immediacy.
John W. – Wise and kind beyond his 12 years – almost seems
the oldest at times. Very talented. A born actor. Quiet and
complete concentration.
Anthony – His school says he’s trouble. When? He’s complex
– he likes Capra, Welles, and doesn’t concentrate easily but
only because we got there hours ago. Does a great Alan
Partridge impression.
David – The one to open up. A bit walled in. Brave soul.
Cursed with weak heart. Growth deficiencies. Great talent, too
much technique. Will hold it all together.
Good hearts all of them.

18 December
3ish to Mum. She’s now sitting at her command centre –
phone, letters, Mills & Boon (though not just love stories . . .),
crosswords, compilations all within easy reach in a semi-circle
of diversions. A still fierce instinct to keep her mind going –
‘I’m not going to that club over the road – all old people, effing
and blinding.’

19 December
10.30 First day of rehearsals for grown-ups. A test when finally
you have to say something – fortunately Robin’s set speaks
volumes and inspires confidence. And so, we trawl through the
day, looking for clues, a shape, ambiguities. Christian and
Arlene61 – their first day in London, in a play, knowing no one.
Arlene is rescued from her B&B by Sharman.
6pm Almeida wine bar for interview with Duncan Fallowell
of the Observer. He’s intelligent and comes in from all angles
but of course it’s the negative standpoint – difficult, rebellious,
maverick. Heigh ho.
Later and Rima at the drop of a crossword tells me in detail
the plot of Richard III.

23 December
Said no to Richard III. What strange days these are.
Christmas shopping.

24 December
Michael comes around at 8.30 and we eat something before
going (with Dalia who comes at 11.45) to All Saints for the
Midnight Mass – carols, candles, a crib, somebody drunk
crying on a shoulder by the door, all the hymns, as usual, way
too high, and this organist clearly on 33⅓ rpm. But it
formalises the day, and that’s good – I want something to come
at me not to be always looking, probing, hoping, reaching.

25 December
Getting to bed at 2am meant a bit of a scrabble for baths,
breakfast and unwrapping before David arrived at 12. But it’s
my favourite part of Christmas Day – just two of us enjoying
things in the same way, complementary rhythms. And it’s fine
up to and during lunch – Chris62 a phenomenon of
organisation. The more alcohol that’s consumed, however, the
more the tensions appear, the greater the sense of hideous
impending temperament about to explode on the suburban
scene. The accident of families . . . which takes people, makes
siblings of them, staples on some relationships and children and
gathers them into a room for one day to enjoy themselves. And
we do – there’s a lot of uncomplicated love around all mixed up
with other emotional luggage. Finally – the two of us home
again and a cup of tea. All’s well . . .

31 December
A year has passed . . . which has included the earthquake,
Mesmeritus, Potter’s memorial, Awfully Big Adventure, nudging
Tara Hugo and Eddie Izzard into other places, the rebirth of
Upper Addison, growing pains but growing of Wisdom of
Crocodiles and the Richardson/Fry script, Don Giovanni, Paris,
Italy, RADA Council. And The Winter Guest bridges the years.
Bigger marks on other graphs, of course – Mandela, Rwanda,
Smith, Blair. But good to be looking forward.
1
American actor (1955–)
2
She cut off her husband’s penis while he was asleep.
3
8 January 1994 edition, cover with Ruby Wax and baby: ‘First Photos of Zany
Comedienne at Home with Her Family and New Baby Marina’
4
Francine LeFrak (1948–), American theatre producer and philanthropist
5
Then chairman of HBO, which – according to the LA Times – he ran ‘like a
Marine boot camp’. He was fired in 1995.
6
Children’s book (1941) by Pamela Brown
7
Stage adaptation of The Steadfast Tin Soldier fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen
8
Italian-British actor (1946–)
9
Japanese theatre director Yukio Ninagawa (1935–2016)
10
Quick Cuisine by Lewis Esson, Henrietta Green and Marie-Pierre Moine (1991)
11
British actor (1935–)
12
British actor (1927–2002)
13
Georgina Cates, English actor (1975–)
14
Irish actor (1948–2011)
15
British actor (1947–)
16
She signed with A.R.’s manager, Judy Hoflund
17
Co-producer of An Awfully Big Adventure
18
Married to Anthony Minghella
19
Four Weddings and a Funeral
20
English actor (1951–)
21
English playwright (1931–2004)
22
English actor (1934–2009)
23
‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Kids’ by Paul Harrington and Charlie McGettigan
24
Jefferson in Paris
25
English actor (1947–)
26
English theatre director (1941–2020)
27
British journalist (1962–)
28
British artist and theatre designer Dexter Fletcher (1966–)
29
Scottish writer and actor Sharman Macdonald (1951–)
30
English actor (1941–)
31
Algerian-born writer and theatre director (1931–2001)
32
A.R.’s mum’s neighbour
33
Angels in America: Millennium Approaches by Tony Kushner
34
American director (1941–)
35
British novelist Ken Follett (1949–) and his wife, British Labour politician Barbara
Follett (1942–)
36
Richard Attenborough (1923–2014)
37
British director (1951–)
38
Brazil beat Italy on penalties, 3–2.
39
Croatian-born singer (1938–2021)
40
German actor (1900–1971)
41
Austrian singer (1898–1981)
42
English academic and film producer (1949–)
43
American film producer (1921–2014)
44
French theatre designer Maria Bjornson (1949–2002)
45
Casting director Patsy Pollock’s daughter
46
English actor (1945–2020)
47
Italian-American architect and designer
48
12 Upper Addison Gardens, a flat A.R. had bought in Holland Park
49
English playwright and actor (1955–)
50
Davy Byrne’s pub
51
Daughter of Barbara Cartland and stepmother of Princess Diana (1929–2015)
52
The Fat Lady Sang
53
BBC documentary (Truly, Madly, Alan Rickman) focusing on the making of
Mesmer and A.R.’s career to date
54
Alan seemed ideally suited to the role but as filming progressed discord grew as
representatives of Mayfair Entertainment International, one of its principal backers,
voiced their dismay, claiming among other things that the star was not sufficiently
erotic. Others disagreed: Alan won the Best Actor award at the 1994 Montreal Film
Festival, and the Atlantic’s critic said, ‘He’s not just brilliant; he’s great, bold to the
point of folly.’ Arbitration followed and thereafter Mayfair withdrew funding.
55
Christine Rock, English actor (1958–)
56
British television producer Kenith Trodd (1936–)
57
Ian Scorer, founder of Mayfair Entertainment International
58
Auditioning for parts in The Winter Guest
59
Scottish actor who played Alex
60
The cast of the stage version of The Winter Guest included several young Scottish
actors, among them Christian Zanone, John-Ross Morland, Anthony O’Donnell,
David Evans and John Wark.
61
Arlene Cockburn, Scottish actor who played Nita
62
Christine, David’s wife
 1995
LEEDS, THE WINTER GUEST – SALT LAKE CITY, AN
AWFULLY BIG ADVENTURE – DONALD PLEASENCE –
LORD SNOWDON – MESMER – EMMA THOMPSON –
STEPHEN FRY – BERNARDO BERTOLUCCI – ANG
LEE – TONY BLAIR – DAVID BAILEY – SENSE AND
SENSIBILITY – DUBLIN, MICHAEL COLLINS – DIE
HARD WITH A VENGEANCE – ST
PETERSBURG/BUDAPEST, RASPUTIN – A FAMILY
CHRISTMAS – NEW YORK

2 January
Breakfast with the Richardson household, a quick visit to the
archetypal country kitchen next door and then everyone
bundled into the car to Newton Abbott and the 12.02 to
Paddington.
The stretch of coast at Dawlish where the railway line runs
right along the beach is really magnificent. As I was saying
tonight (see below), my head is filled with Famous Five-ish
images of rockpools and starfish, short trousers and sticks.
Back home a wander around area. A bit of final (!) Christmas
shopping. Maybe tonight will be quietly preparing to go away.
Maybe not. Dalia is followed by Julian Sands and Evgenia [his
wife] and then the four of us have a happy, chatty evening over
brilliant Malaysian takeaway (or rather bring to).
Far too late to bed. There will be a price to pay.

3 January
There was.
7am car to King’s Cross, 7.50 train to Leeds. Pullman trains
now like a Forte’s hotel corridor.
 The theatre is filled with friendliness and it’s good to see the
boys again. John and David, watchful as ever, John-Ross and
Anthony both on another planet. They have retained a lot in
the gap but there’s certainly work to do.
pm with Christian and Arlene, whose faces light up as they
make discoveries about energy, tension, playing together. And
some wonderful work from Sheila and Sandra1 in the evening.
Now there’s time, space and light to work in this kind of detail.

4 January
10.30 for the tour of the building.
11.30–12 Finally the company is together and we read the
play for the first time. Some of it wonderful – the boys, so
open, unaffected. Other areas so closed and complicated. But
that’s the stuff of this & next week.
5pm production meetings & wardrobe talks. Easy to be
decisive in these situations – colours, shapes.
7pm Into the rehearsal room with Phyllida [Law] and Siân
Thomas2 and the best kind of detailed character building.
Sharman and I go to Pizza Express for red wine & no
cheese. Sharman trawling for resonances, reconciliations –
things to end a play with.

5 January
This was a wonderful day’s work. Starting with the boys – first
moving through the scenes and watching particularly John-
Ross finding new life away from the script and David leaving
his old safety nets behind.
Then working gradually through the play, putting scenes
together for the first time – and it works. Still some fingers
crossed about music, lights, sound but the play opens up all day
long.
7pm Arlene, so still and gifted beginning to enjoy the work.
Christian beginning to enjoy it a little less – which is good.
7 January
Scrabble through some scenes this morning (this is how not to
work) Sharman behind me in a flap as we approach taxi time.
But we make the train – Siân, Sharman & me chit chat & read
our way back to Kings X . . . Letters, cheques, take down the
Xmas cards, phone calls, washing.

8 January
To Ruby & Ed with Christmas gifts. Esp. Madeleine’s jewel
box, which she was last seen kissing, before taking it to bed. As
Rima said, apart from anything else, maybe it’s one of the few
things she got not made of plastic.

9 January
7.50 train to Leeds. The man opposite with a stomach dented
by the table 2 feet in front of him, tucking into sausages, eggs,
the lot. ‘Could I have more potato, please?’
10am with the boys – all excited by their weekend
purchases. Sunglasses, things to scare me, and for John a big fat
copy of Les Miserables – ‘It was only three quid.’

10 January
First major run-through produces all the pluses and minuses.
Sharman has written a play filled with complex resonances,
ironies, jokes, sadnesses which the actors illuminate and inhabit
miraculously most of the time. The danger is of it falling for its
own beat and the added problem is that some of its darker
passages are in the mouths of 12-year-olds and the writing is
(technically) beyond them. The question is how to teach them
to lie???

12 January
Press conference – 20-odd journalists. The clever ones sit
quietly taking notes while the idiots ask questions.

14 January
The run has its now usual quota of wonderful things and places
where the pace threatens towards slow motion. But they are
heroes and if the boys can hold it together and Arlene &
Christian can find some joy then I can just direct and not be a
social worker.

19 January
2.45 Dress rehearsal.
First preview – which went so well all things considered.
David and John-Ross enjoying themselves hugely. Everyone
else putting it all together. What a business this is.

20 January
Next morning – and I’ve gone right off changing anything.
And the news is – the press are coming on Monday . . . I
hope they remember to pack their full quota – brain cells,
antennae, hearts.
2.45 Dress rehearsal. Which at this stage feels a bit
unnecessary. But not for John & Anthony. Hard to strike the
balance at this stage – either lots of notes and extra rehearsals or
just push the boat out and let it be.
Second preview – As ever the gremlins poking about seeing
where they can get a toehold . . . Something in the general air
seems to capsize on second nights. But the audience loved it
and John and Anthony were full of wonders. As long as
confidence doesn’t turn to something overblown.

23 January
I watched the show from the box. But mostly quietly. No
notes. It’s all going down there – the audience is cool but not
cold. A bit of first-night judging. They’re too aware of the
event. David does a brilliant bit of rescue work, John-Ross
nearly brings the kittens on ½hr too soon but basically all is
well. All also piled into Pizza Express for a happy couple of
hours. Four kids completely part of an adult group – wonderful
to watch.
24 January
Up at 8.30 for the 10.15 flight to Dallas. Streaming with a cold
– main preoccupation being to get a large box of tissues for the
flight.
3.45 Dallas → Salt Lake City
7pm An Awfully Big Adventure. Showered and changed in 8
minutes. A drive into town to a 200 seater cinema . . .
Later, a fairly embarrassing Q&A – by now I’m so tired I
don’t recognise words any more and then on to the Barking
Frog for Mexican food . . . It’s like a crazy children’s party
without the hats and balloons. Also paranoid. The film. My
place in it all. Heigh ho.

25 January
The good news is the faxed reviews from the London papers.
They are wonderful which is wonderful.
9pm The Usual Suspects – 10 mins in realised it was a script
that had been chasing me. I slept through a lot of it. Seemed
like a director’s calling card.3 Gabriel Byrne has the warmest
smile. Tim Roth hangs like a snake over his chair.

26 January
10am Farcical press call. Begins to be clear that America will be
fascinated by the Diva. Once again the Telegraph shows its
tawdry little fangs.
Find Danny Boyle – his face shining with the acclaim,
promise and arrival of it all.4

30 January
Los Angeles.
7pm Drive to LAX. Of course, find the Observer review – is
this paranoia but why? Do we have to be over the page,
without a picture but definitely with Michael Ratcliffe’s
prejudices? It can’t be right to focus ⅓ of a review on the boys’
diction and West Yorkshire Playhouse’s snowbound service . . .
9.10 Flight to London.

2 February
12 Longish notes session but the train needs to be picked up
and put back on the tracks.
Lunch. Rehearse. 4.05 train. I felt like a carrot in a tin of
sardines. They’re all mobile – phoning, laptopping, looking
through the balance sheets. I read a script.
Evening at home . . . Write to Angela – Donald Pleasence
[her father] died today. He taught me my first big lesson in how
to upstage on camera – wait till the other actor in a two-person
scene has a big speech, then move during it – they have to
cover you. Wicked man. But vulnerable and gentle. And
brilliant.

4 February
Got to get down to the gym.
Later With Jools Holland on TV and a real treat with Johnny
Cash, June Carter, Carleen Anderson, Pops Staples and Mazzy
Star.

5 February
8 L’Accento with Rima, Dexter & Dalia. Dinner as therapy
session. Hoping that if things are said often, clearly & loudly
enough you can hack past defences and conditioning if only
because underneath it he knows the truth of ‘I’ve been there
too.’

7 February
1.10 train to Leeds . . . At the theatre all is well – apart from
John-Ross’s cold. But he is uncomplaining, Sheila has dyed her
hair red, ‘I had to do something – coming off stage as Lily
every night.’ They give a beautiful performance – this piece of
work is dead right for now. A kind of nostalgic celebration of
the seven ages.

8 February
A curious melancholy is descending. I feel with the play as if
the job is over, really. All I can do is get out the dustpan and
brush from time to time – anything more radical hits barriers of
youth or habit. This at the same time to saying no to work
offers is not too good for peace of mind.
Emma Thompson phones. OK I’m [going to] meet him.5

9 February
Snowdon calls to invite me to the Dorchester lunch he gives
each year for Oliver Messel.6

10 February
Answer machine says Mail on Sunday about to print something
actionable. Lawyers alerted. Everything passes through the
brainbox.

11 February
10am Paul Lyon-Maris phones. Of course, it was Mesmer. It is
alleged I was aloof. It is alleged I made 57 changes. It is alleged
Roger talked of ‘brilliant, argumentative, hubris’. May they try.
John Lewis to buy interesting things like a kettle, a toaster, an
ironing board. Take things to UA. Some day this flat will be
finished. Furnished. Fun-ish.

12 February
The Mesmer piece in the Mail on Sunday colours the day plus
lunch talk of other films. This cannot be the sum of my life.
And I cannot stoop to the Mayfair level of verbal foot-stamping.

13 February
Talk to Emma. ‘Her people’ and ‘my people’ now. Lawyers
loom in yesterday’s press. As Sharman writes – I don’t know. I
don’t know. I don’t know.
4ish To Mum. Monstrous piece of machinery called mobile
staircase now dominates the hall.
This morning Ruby rang to do her I’m-back-from-my-
travels-and-wait-til-you-hear-this monologue. It included
telling of inviting Carrie Fisher to view her trailer (like Ms F.
had never seen one). WHO, incidentally is on the cover of the
Sunday Times Magazine, WHO incidentally wants to do a
feature (yes? no?) AND which contains a wonderful piece of
writing by Zoë Heller about her mother. Ruby, Carrie F. &
Zoë H. – sometimes it is too weird that one’s life is splayed
endlessly across a double page spread.

14 February
11am To Lord Snowdon to look at Mesmer negatives. A man of
total charm and a touching need to show his latest work in this
month’s Vanity Fair. He also talks of his annoyance with the
BBC over the Sellers7 documentary & using private film
footage of him & ‘Princess Margaret’ & the general invasions
that go on (he had seen Sunday’s paper). His pictures from the
film were good, too. Not, however, of Amanda – you can see
how pissed off she was. Sometimes you just have to do as you’re
told (‘move your little finger up – too much – now down –
that’s it’).

18 February
Most of today broodingly affected by the Yorkshire press
clippings which were sent from West Yorkshire Playhouse.
What I took to be directness, they call rude, intimidating etc.,
etc. – so the headlines are all Truly Madly Badly etc., etc., etc.
God forbid they shouldn’t have an angle . . . But maybe I’ve
learned a lesson. Just smile and deflect.
Watching the Sellers Arena programme later, you realise that
it is now necessary to rationalise and reduce him down to
‘nutter’ rather than really focus on what was clearly (watching
some Strangelove) genius, and how it is nurtured . . .

21 February
A birthday arrives again. But I’m not counting any more.
Other people are, though. My brother’s card arrives amongst
the others like a folded couple of pages from the Sun – full of
yearly warnings of fading powers . . . in dayglo and exclamation
marks.

24 February
Watching news of Stephen Fry’s Great Escape.8 Ian McK.
writes a well-worded letter to one of the broadsheets. In many
ways what Stephen has done took great courage. I remember
crawling on stage with the knives still in me – I don’t recall any
great sense of the honour and dignity of it all – just pain. And
as time goes on, a real bewilderment that critics and journalists
can take such seeming pleasure in such cruelty . . . It occurs to
me that if faced with an end-of-the-world choice of
companion, Stephen Fry or certain drama critics – no contest.

28 February
A week after the cold – flu strikes. People say ‘I’ve got flu’ –
mostly they haven’t. This is flu. The legs ache, eyes hurt, head
pounds. Bed is the best place. Whenever you get up, the legs
totter.
And it spreads itself through the body.
A talk with Duncan Heath.9
A chat with Catherine Olim.10
I can’t work it out at all. What message am I being given?

1 March
Early am – vomiting in the dark. And the morning rushing to
the toilet . . . A day in bed is what the body craves and gets.
Janet comes and hoovers around me.
8 March
First thing an inventive cab driver brings me to the Almeida 15
mins late for the rest of the technical.
1pm another series of red lights and jams before meeting
Bernardo Bertolucci & [casting director] Celestia Fox for what?
His Tuscany film.11 He’s nice enough but I can see all sorts of
little judgements being made every 5 seconds.

10 March
12.30 Meet Christian to listen to his RADA audition pieces.
One of which is Angelo [Measure for Measure]. Here he is, 17
years old doing the speech I left RADA with.
Preview 2.
A slowish audience turns out to have been listening carefully.

11 March
4pm – matinée. With it all the way. Some notes afterwards and
then the bar starts filling up with Geraldine McEwan,
Catherine, Dalia, Dexter, Saffron Burrows,12 Alan Cumming,
Lindsay Duncan, Hilton. They all loved it, tough audience that
they were. Full of ice-cream-carton-scrapers, foot re-arrangers,
cough experts. Except by the end you realise that everyone else
has been listening hard.

14 March
7pm – press night.
No one in their wildest imaginings could have wished for
anything better. Everything came together in some very special
way. Every single actor was in the middle of the racquet. We
had even nearly sorted out the lighting and the audience was
filled with friends.
Supper for 95 (it seemed) afterwards – and I was told that
someone had felt the play & the audience become one unit
tonight. Which will do.
18 March
3pm To Ang Lee. He gets the Sensibility, what’s the Sense?
How to play, how to shoot Brandon ‘the only strong man in
the story’. I said ‘I’ll be doing it, you’ll just have to shoot it.’
On the way out, there’s Imogen Stubbs on the way in.

19 March
2 more good reviews for Winter Guest. We press on.
At home later watching Martin Amis – I hope he laughs
sometimes, is easy sometimes. Rima says he writes ‘Men’s
Books’.

23 March
Things in a bag and the car comes to take me to Heathrow for
the 6.55 flight to Berlin. I wish these lounges weren’t so
devoted to the bored & boring. Perhaps there could be a door
marked Eccentrics and Weirdos Only.

24 March
am – Goes very fast. Print and radio interviews [for Mesmer].
I’m not sure I gain anything by fighting the labels, but fight I
have to.
On the whole, though, the day is filled with more or less
intelligent questioning. And, amazingly enough, no question
about age or private life.
3pm Back for TV interviews. ‘What is an actor?’ . . . ‘I don’t
think this film will be a great success’ (!?!!)

25 March
Quiet sleepy trip home.
8.30 to the Almeida, to watch the company sounding a bit
tired. Good work but corner-cutting and David, dangerously,
starting to ‘act’ again. The theatre is packed but way too hot
from the matinée. This fragile, unpredictable piece . . . like my
life at the moment. →
26 March
→ And the row goes on. I am a bully. But it’s only a noise I
make to get rid of the silence.
8.30 John and Nina Darnton’s [American journalists].
Dinner with Tony & Cherie Blair, Jon Snow & his wife,
Helena Kennedy & Iain Hutchison, Hugo Young & [his wife]
Lucy Waring, Arthur Sulzberger13 & Gail.
Like high-altitude oxygen I imagine – hearing Tony Blair
ask Hugo Young ‘what should we be doing?’ Jon Snow
desperate to banish titles . . . Tony Blair v. impressive and
committed when relaxed (not to say informal – he was upset to
find himself the only man without a tie). I had similar agonies
about wearing one – he had assumed I would be an ally. I
would like to talk more to Cherie Blair – intelligent but not
pushy. Blair and I talk of the misuse of celebrities. He obviously
has respect for Major – but then he’s not remotely vindictive.

28 March
3am–6.30am Madness. Watching the Oscars. Some of the most
tasteless, graceless moments on recent television. Forrest Gump
elevated. Pulp Fiction dumped. What does it all mean? That the
Academy voters have an average age of 95 says Judy Hoflund.
Later . . . Sense and Sensibility deal now more or less done.
With some relief.

30 March
Oliver Messel suite at the Dorchester for Lord Snowdon’s
lunch. Glorious day, glorious room and balcony, champagne
before, good chat around the table with Polly Devlin,14 Joan
Juliet Buck,15 John Wells16 (Bird & Fortune improvist on The
[Rory] Bremner Show). One of life’s treats.
3.30 To Shepperton for make-up and costume tests. Emma,
Imelda [Staunton], Imogen in the trailer – and Kate Winslet –
first impression sweetness and steel.
31 March
2pm David Bailey – he’s such an open, kind, funny, vulnerable
soul. Maybe these will be some of the most honest pictures of
late. Although he says ‘I don’t like taking pictures of people I
like . . .’

1 April
10ish Walking up Portobello Market in the sunshine with
Isabelle [Huppert] – I feel like a tourist. She bought earrings
then on to Conran – I bought a gift item, she bought cups and
saucers.

6 April
Dublin.
8pm Irish Premiere.
Why was it so dark? So late starting?
Feel like an elder statesman reading the letter from Mike
[Newell].
10.30 Dublin Castle. In the retiring room (H[ugh] G[rant]
perkier).
Late → Lillie’s Bordello.17 Dark, noisy and restful.

7 April
10am Wandering the Dublin streets before getting back to the
Shelbourne for 11am to find –! – Neil Jordan and Stephen
Woolley re The Big Fella. Will I do it? Lose weight? What other
commitments?
11.25 → airport and the plane home.
Later pm – The Almeida.
John-Ross – the full pyromaniac – lights a match, it catches
– before long the contents of the fire basket are ablaze. But
David carries on (almost) regardless – apart from a ‘Jesus’ when
the flames are 3’ high . . . Eventually Rebecca and team come
on with extinguisher.

10 April
1pm Lunch at the Pelican with Peter Barnes [playwright]. It’s
like taking the plug out and letting the bile all dribble down to
some low-down space. Before he flies off to LA and ‘meetings’.

12 April
11 To James Roose-Evans18 who is recording interviews for
the book he has been commissioned to do on Richard Wilson.
A happy morning talking about someone I love, admire and
have a huge debt of gratitude to, with James R.-E. – grace, wit,
intelligence.
2.15 To RADA. Council gathered for the Lottery
Assessment. More wit and intelligence although not from some
members of council who have crawled out of the dark ages.

16 April
10 Watching Persuasion. Roger Michell [director] has done a
fine job of demystifying, but has allowed some of his actors to
perform as if they were in Portobello Market. The clothes
don’t allow it – her sentences don’t allow it. She writes irony –
love stories of the middle classes, not social realism. I want to
know what’s happening to these people’s hearts and minds not
whether they had dirt under their nails. But he’s a fine director
in spite of all of that, because his eye and mind certainly live.

20 April
(Somewhere in here the deal is done for Michael Collins or The
Big Fella. So – back to Dublin.)

22 April
At the show tonight – Richard Wilson, Neil Pearson, Bob
Crowley, Ros March,19 Sophie Thompson,20 Fatimah &
Caroline Holdaway. Audience a bit like a football crowd,
dropped coins, a rolling bottle, whistling at the end. But they
loved it.
To the Mercury. All of the above plus cast. The worst service
– so bad the waitress was laughing. What else could she do?

23 April
11.30 To Anthony & Carolyn Minghella to talk with them and
Irène Jacob of Wisdom of Crocodiles. She’s off to the BAFTA
awards tonight with the most wonderful, clear, comme ci
attitude. She has the same reservations about the part in WOC.
It just needs nursing now. Anthony also treading through early
minefields with The English Patient. People in offices with
opinions.

25 April
Collected [at Plymouth station]. 20 mins drive to the location.
At lunchtime the trailer fills up with Imogen Stubbs, Gemma
Jones, Emma Thompson – Imogen & Emma all Austened-up.
Gemma in hiking boots . . . Spend the pm doing hair and
make up. Writing this at 7.20pm. Still no sign of the make-up
test I’ve come to do . . . Somewhere around 8 we do the
required stand up, sit down, look left, look right in a somewhat
tight atmosphere not to mention coat. Gently humiliating.
Back to the hotel. A drink with Hugh G., Imogen & Kate W.

26 April
9.35 Train back to London.
Still feeling faintly depressed by yesterday. So much attention
to ‘The Look’. What about ‘The Content’?
And what about creating a working environment with Ang –
who, reading between the already apparent lines, is used to
‘conducting’ his actors, rather than nurturing.
Hugh G. says they are having ‘worst notes’ competitions.
Fairly typical Grant-Activity. However ‘that was dull’ does not
sound too helpful.
29 April
Last matinée. All four boys are here. And quite right too. The
play is handed over beautifully. Why is it that matinées often
produce the best work? Afternoon ease, I suppose.
8pm and a truly glorious last performance, full of freedom
and new thinking. Sometimes I watch this and cannot think
how it came together. At the curtain call all 7 boys came on to
much cheering.

2 May
A 6.15 wake up for my first actual day on Sense and Sensibility.
Make-up and hair becomes a gentle negotiation – hair,
especially. Heated rollers eventually wins.
And the day is spent walking out of this beautiful church
towards Luciana Arrighi’s21 thatched barn and hayricks in
green, green fields. Tea in the small hotel nearby . . . Kate W.
looking so beautiful in her gilded wedding gown. Emma T.
with her eyes everywhere. Harriet W. & I uncool enough to
admit just enjoying being here.
Drinks in the bar at 8pm – Emma, Imelda, Hugh L[aurie],
Hugh G., Gemma Jones, Harriet, Kate W. Hugh G. his usual
snappy, sharp, acid self. In to dinner with 2 x Hugh, Harriet &
me. Fortunately the conversation moves away from gossip and
we talk of British & US film production. Too much irony?
Hugh Laurie turns out to be an action movie freak. Hugh G. is
fascinated by figures, fees, %.

4 May
I’m beginning to get the hang of Ang. He came by to have a
chat. ‘What are you going to do as Brandon?’ I can only show
him and talk in generalised terms. By the end, he and everyone
seems happy. And I can go to Plymouth for the 6.35 →
London.
 Reading obituaries for Michael Hordern – my mind goes
back to Stratford 1978 when he was as angry as I was, but
warm, funny, flirtatious, no-nonsense. ‘I’m not much of a
company man.’ Dinners chez us, Eve [M.H.’s wife] waiting
outside theatres at curtain-up, Michael saying that theatre came
a poor third to fishing and planting his onions.

5 May
7.30 Odeon Hammersmith or Labatt’s Apollo as it is now
known for Mary Chapin Carpenter. She comes on at 8.30 –
polished, professional, blonde hair swinging over her shoulder,
guitars switched on cue. Maybe once or twice does she make
time relative to her interpretation. At all other moments it
passes. She moves effortlessly from one song to another. In her
dressing room afterwards – cool, professional, untouched.

7 May
6ish To Mum. Watched truly awful VE Day concert from
Hyde Park. All those showbiz right wingers. Ute Lemper
proving yet again that she isn’t Marlene Dietrich. Elaine [Paige]
not doing her own stuff, stuck with Piaf. Cliff Richard telling
us that ‘today made him realise how much he owed all those
brave men and women . . .’

10 May
And another day not called.
Lunch on the set. Then into boots and breeches and off to
the stables. Marcus is not the smoothest ride – a tank. A
reluctant tank. Every stride has weight in it. Which makes him
very tiring to ride. After ½ hour I’m knackered.

12 May
Another 7.30 wake up. Another day not being used.
The sun shines. They do something else. The clouds come
over – they do something else.
Maybe rent a car. The licence is out of date. So it’s wait.
13 May
7am call – and finally I’m on . . .
As it turns out the scene becomes a nightmare of rushed
decisions, manipulations, too many looks. It isn’t thought
through so time is wasted on fixing the horse to the post in a
totally unnecessary way . . . Which means that acting is out the
window . . . I end the day feeling humiliated and angry – but I
can’t show it. Words are expressed to Lindsay Doran
[producer], however. But that’s the scene. Forever. It’s no way
to work.
Later to Emma’s party. Fight through the (real) depression
and dance.

14 May
Emma, Gemma, Greg [Wise] and I go off for a 3 hour cliff-
walk. This was really spectacular. England, my England. So
beautiful (mixed up with caravan parks, garden gnomes, mini-
waterfalls – so English). We walk in twos, threes, fours,
singly . . . Emma still likes to be the Boss.

15 May
An alarming morning – my first with a group of actors, a scene
and Ang. He opens himself so wide to be available to others’
ideas and a vagueness can creep in. Suggestions are made, the
scene relaxes and yields and good work is done. And his taste is
a permanent guiding light.
Late night [call] to USA – the Die Hard 3 Saga. It’s a disgrace
that work can be regurgitated in this way. Do I take on a major
studio? Of course not. I don’t have the energy, never mind the
money.

16 May
The Die Hard 3 Saga goes on. Litigation lawyers now come in.
Watching The Politician’s Wife on Channel 4. Compulsive
viewing – especially if Juliet’s character starts to kick back.
Ghastly script, but hugely enjoyable.

17 May
Lunch in a pub car park. Ang has revealed a deep affection for
desserts and all things sweet. I bring him all 3 puddings on a
polystyrene plate – lemon meringue pie, profiteroles and
Banoffee pie. Ang heaven. I ate 3 satsumas.

20 May
Breakfast at the hotel with Lindsay – we talk of
optimists/pessimists and the paths that either create for
themselves. Rima throws quizzical glances at me.

22 May
This was a day of such contrasts. As ever I wonder what lessons
life is attempting to hand out.
Brandon in the reeds, Brandon sitting alone in a boat,
walking with his dog, riding his horse – a chance to find his
centre in some extraordinary locations. Leaving me
introspective enough without coming back to the hotel to hear
of all the Cannes/Carrington events.
Will this prove to be the big mistake of my working life?

23 May
9.35 Train to London.
Ruby comes over and we go to the Agadir for dinner. Fine
and dandy for stories of LA. Less so for Ruby’s analysis of our
current sense of each other. The lesson of course is not to take
close friends for granted.

24 May
Harold Wilson has died. The tributes are generous and lucid
and human especially from Barbara Castle and Tony Benn
(who reminds us that he included the Left rather than sidelined
or expelled it – ‘A bird needs a left wing and a right wing to
fly’ Ian Mikardo22). What they don’t say is that to those of us
who were teenagers in 1964, it was such a Brave New World
and a government filled with brilliant minds and new ideas. A
real sense of revolution. And as Barbara Castle said – ‘If he
hadn’t resigned we may never have had to endure Thatcherism
at all.’

29 May
And, almost inevitably, J.P. wins the gong at Cannes.23 What
the fuck are the lessons? Say ‘yes’ more often. Don’t second-
guess so much. You made the decisions for some maybe very
wrong reasons.
Whatever – it produces a very quiet day. I’m sick of getting
thumped like this. But maybe it won’t stop until I stop
brooding and prevaricating.

31 May
[Montacute House, Somerset]
Sunny, sunny day.
Various scenes. We solve them together. And in 3 cases one
shot.
Later and the strangeness of this life – sprayed with water, in
between takes, with the contents of an Evian spray can,
surrounded by the National Trust stewards.

1 June
The day starts with radio reports of Christopher Reeve’s
accident – chilling, focusing, terrible.24 It makes us all acutely
aware of today’s last shot.
Later, Gemma & I get into the coach and go with the
clappers. Swiftly followed by Mark & I galloping down the
drive. 4 times. Thank God we separated the reins . . .
Dinner at the hotel. Flowers on the table. Imelda makes us
weep with laughter at the stories of dope scones.
2 June
Hugh Laurie & I talk of the Wanda sequel [Fierce Creatures].
He’d been asked, decided to say no in the end, now much self-
torture & schadenfreude. This rings a bell . . .

3 June
The rain pours down – perfect for the shots which remain.
Greg and I carry Kate in turn across the sodden lawn. A
piece of green string is stretched to guide our progress.
Then some waiting. An opportunity to start reading Tim Pat
Coogan’s book on de Valera25 which is terrifically well-written
and entertaining.

5 June
Today I felt a schism appear – not permanent, but just my own
desire to focus more on the work than on having a lovely time.
I notice actors being treated somewhat lightly. Scenes put
together moment by moment rather than taking a look at the
whole scene first.

6 June
Back to London on the train with Gemma.

7 June
7.45 Ambassadors w. Angela Pleasence to see Killing of Sister
George. In case we are so mind-numbed by the production the
play’s title is projected on to the front drop. Some really terrible
work going on. But, of course, directionless. Not that Miriam
[Margolyes] can be easy to direct.

19 June
This was a tough day. I kind of knew it would be. Antagonism
and negativity took familiar toeholds and this was added to far
too much schoolmarming from Emma. I cannot puppet this
stuff. Or any stuff. Liz Spriggs26 noticed the nerve-endings and
her arms slipped round my waist.
Later a drink in the bar with some of the sparks [electricians]
was a real pleasure. They so enjoy their life and the people they
meet. Not a trace of cynicism.

20 June
A freer day, lighter breezes around the brain.

22 June
The square in Salisbury with the cathedral floating up behind
us. As ever, words that seem so manageable on the page
become intractable in a take. And with this one, a casual ‘Sorry,
can I go again?’ means a major realignment of carriages, horses,
extras, an army . . .
Find a print in a Salisbury bookshop. The end of shoot gift
panic begins.
And Major ‘resigns’. It’s called ‘courageous’. Fresh from all
my de Valera reading I’d call it ‘clever’, ‘well-judged’,
‘cunning’.

23 June
Once again, the tightrope walking. Suggestions are treated just
too much like irritations. And this is not an atmosphere for
confrontation – and if it were forced, Ang would collapse from
wounded pride, honour, everything.
3.23 Train to London.

25 June
These are the CUSP days on which a life hinges. Left? Right?
Straight? Winding?
Rima decides not to come to the Directors’ Guild dinner –
so wisely – I take Louise Krakower. What the hell is this event
about?? Obey your instincts in future – DON’T go.
 How can Cinema be celebrated by [ John] Boorman
rambling, Zefferelli not communicating. And so on. As soon as
the last speech descends we escape . . .

26 June
7.20am pick-up to go to Heathrow and Dublin.
As I got out of the car [in Dublin], there is Julia Roberts,
upstairs to find Liam [Neeson] & Aidan [Quinn]. Neil Jordan
arrives a few minutes later – we all sit down and talk through
the de Valera scenes. Neil is his usual jitterbugging self – like a
grasshopper nipping from topic to topic.

27 June
9.45 pick-up to go to [the Michael Collins] offices for a read
through.
Stephen Rea’s warm heart fills the room. Some great faces
everywhere. Neil reads the stage directions and sings, and
makes occasional yelps and stops to talk about a set – so excited
by it all.
A bit of a dash to airport to get the 2.45 plane.

29 June
To Shepperton . . . Of course, the set, the newspapers, the TV
and everywhere is obsessed with Hugh Grant and his Sunset
trick . . .27 What can you say? Except as I said to Emma ‘There
but for the grace.’ At the moment I think it follows on too
perfectly from the notion of a world feeding on itself in the
most gourmandising way. So many column inches, so many
other things we should concern ourselves with.
The scenes feel as if they are being ticked off now . . . Ang
seems nervous. He probably needs a hug. Like Hugh.

5 July
Ruby calls. She’s with Carmen du Sautoy28 – eventually they
come over and we go to Café Med. Great, honest talk with old
friends – same old topic of What are we doing – where are we
going? But knot-releasing all the same.

9 July
1pm To Richard Wilson’s for his birthday lunch
party . . . Idyllic stuff. Were it not for the increasingly repetitive
angst of How Much Has Been Drunk?? It means late-night
rowing – pointless silences.

12 July
7.45 Dinner with Barbara and Ken Follett. Ken, as ever, starts
the evening with a jolly insult about my work – it seems to be
a reflex action. Barbara seems v. tired. (Later she confesses to
having been working until 3.30am.)

19 July
To Kensington Council Chamber. When Rima speaks they all
shut up. MP to be . . .

23 July
9am A glorious ride through glorious countryside. Pity my
horse is called Wogan. But he’s high, wide and handsome and
when he wants to go he’s a Force 10 gale.
Home to messages from LA saying that Awfully Big Adventure
has been well reviewed but is doubtless too dark to succeed.

8 August
To . . . Dublin. And the Shelbourne. Catch-up-fast time. Hire
a video recorder, read the books, get under Dev’s29 skin.
Hopefully.

9 August
8.45 pick-up → the set . . . The reconstruction of O’Connell
Street is quite brilliant. Post Office, Mansion House, cobbles
and – frighteningly – the platform for Dev’s speech. But it’s
OK (I think) the drive down the street is first to ease me in.
 All day the crowds grow and grow – rumour has it that 2000
more were sent home. That leaves 2–3000 inside all staring at
me since Neil [Jordan] comes to announce that the speech is
first. Is it his nerves that makes him question the hair, the
costume, the accent, the everything???
In the end he’s happy and we just do it. No rehearsal. Just do
it. Which is why the resentment about 1st class, 2nd class
treatment of American & British actors rankles. It will never
happen again. But there’s no denying the buzz of it all.

10 August
10.30 pick-up to the set. Photo call for the Irish press. Julia
Roberts a mite pissed-off at being kept waiting . . . She should
have tried yesterday’s gauntlet ride.

11 August
Lunchtime-ish at ‘The Highest Pub in Ireland (sic)’. Foxes.
The Highest? The most full of bric-a-brac, or junk, certainly.
Including some Dev front pages and a Victorian potty, screwed
to the wall . . .

12 August
Taxi to the airport for the 12.30 → Cork. Delays, hanging
about, sitting on tarmac. Eventually we get there and fart about
trying to find the hire car.
A staggeringly beautiful drive to Cork (and onwards). The
Brown Pub in the grey square on the blue, blue day is the last
stopping point – a glass of Guinness and then down a lane is
Belinda Lang. How did they find this heaven on earth? . . .
Picnic on the grass looking up at the hill. Delicious supper.
Too much red wine. Bleary-eyed. Bed.

17 August
Wandering around the streets of Dublin – along Dame Street
from Temple Bar to Grafton Street, Dawson Street and back,
getting keys cut, looking around Brown Thomas30 – it reminds
me mostly of early views of 6th and 7th Avenue in Greenwich
Village.
Back to the flat, moulding it slowly to my shape . . . To the
set for hair dyeing . . . Back to clean some windows (always
therapeutic – instant results). Supper. Early night.

18 August
The first day on the set with the other actors . . . And the
prevailing atmosphere is happy.

19 August
Waiting for the TV man to fix the video and Rima to
arrive . . . Walk around Temple Bar, buy some quite fantastic
ham from the Italian deli.

20 August
Read the Sunday papers. Die Hard with a Vengeance opened this
week – could describe my attitude towards the ‘discussions’
with 20th C. Fox.

21 August
A day of running and jumping . . . Good fun because no lines.
A kind of headiness is inevitable – and deepened by a trip to
Whelan’s for Sharon Shannon. My hero. The joy that empties
itself from her CDs is nothing to what happens live. Number
after number has the whole body, the whole room moving
helplessly with it. And I met her. And kissed her. And asked
her to play at our wrap party. And she said yes.
Home to beans on toast.

22 August
Kilmainham Jail.
2 minutes in one of the cells and I’m starting to get anxious
– what must it have been like? Clear enough in Last Words –
the book given to me by the museum manager. They were all
so proud to die. They knew when it was coming [and] what it
was for. Strange walking in the footsteps, too, copying de
Valera’s letter to Mother Gonzaga31 (he has been told he is to
be shot). This is beginning to feel like something I just have to
hand myself over to – it will take care of itself. Hidden forces
are very strong. I’m sitting in his cell, writing a letter to
Michael Collins, the dust filling the slash of sunlight. That
glimpse of a changing sky must have meant everything.

23 August
Kilmainham and the sacristy. Father Benedict would be de
Valera if you gave him some glasses. I’m surrounded by people
talking of where the host, the genuflexion would be if, and,
but, as we try to shape a scene and get a candle imprint in the
wax. Difficult and a sudden reminder that heat conducts
especially down the handle of a metal key. In the end the scene
is sort of stitched together. I hope it has some wit, and that
push for full-face was not seen as pure ego.

25 August
Buried all day down in the endless catacombs. Very little room
for the easy personal exchanges . . . A bit of High-Nooning
goes on – not helped by an excessively silent crowd of jurors
(for the scene). The scene is difficult to get hold of anyway and
an excessive (and all-too familiar) desire to ‘solve’ it instantly
doesn’t help. A mix of concentration, determination and
invention produces something like the real thing, but tiredness
eventually claims the crown as the text turns to intractable ashes
in my mouth just as the cameras turn round on me.

3 September
Gearing up to work on a Sunday is a contradiction in terms.
10.15 pick-up to paint the hair brown again and then many
hours in the trailer but at least it’s the All-Ireland Hurling final
[between Clare and Offaly] and Clare would have been Dev’s
team. Fantastically exciting game to watch – now there’s
something for Murdoch to promote. Clare wins for the first
time in 81 years . . .
 The scene is, surprisingly, in a bike shop so a spinning wheel
becomes the prop and the metaphor (for my brain trying to
forge a connection with my tongue). Not sure it wasn’t a bit
tricksy and secretiveness must not become Dev’s habitual
manner but there was a shape.

7 September
7.15 Call. To the Mansion House . . . Some argy-bargy early
on about why aren’t there any women here. Countess
Markievicz?32 This script is held together by liberal scrapings of
prejudice allied to the fact that the times are so badly recorded,
as Neil says. So much is left to hearsay or personal standpoint.
We get there, though. In between shots, the usual half-
successful attempts to collar Neil and discuss later scenes, or
show him contradictory versions. But at least I know now that
in some part of his nerve-stillness he is listening. And he lights
up all over when he’s pleased with the work. A pat on the back
from quiet, determined, shy Chris Menges [director of
photography] means a lot, too. The day ends well and Neil says
(3 or 4 times) ‘I’ll have a look at that scene, yeah?’

9 September
To the airport for the 12.45 to London. Stephen Frears
there . . . and I hear how well The Van is going . . . I still can’t
think quite what he meant by saying he never understands why
people (actors or in this case Chris Menges) want to direct.
Does that mean he hates what he does or is he inviolate?

12 September
12.45 Flight to Dublin.
6.45 pick-up and on to a night shoot at Kilmainham. Sandy
Powell [costume designer] has made Dev a fetching coat and
bonnet for his Lincoln Jail escape. Much fiddling about with
keys and locks and doors then running up the road till 5am by
which time it’s all happening in a blur. Stephen Woolley says
the rushes are great. This is one man (of few words normally)
who I believe.
19 September
1.30 pick-up. Through the Wicklow Mountains to Glenmalure
and a thatched cottage by a stream. For the first time Dev in a
State scene with the ‘Fresh Faced Kid’ i.e. Jonathan33 who’s on
his third movie this year, plays flute, tin whistle and drums (and
sings Gaelic & Rock) has just returned from backpacking in
Vietnam, learned Arabic in Egypt, and is, of course, also
impossibly good-looking . . .
The scene is snatched at. No proper thoughts AGAIN.
Homework and flexibility is what we can offer, but no
guarantees as to the mood of the moment. But that is also part
of the pleasure of working with Neil. You have to yield. He
doesn’t stand still long enough to have a structured discussion.
In a strange way it’s quite freeing.

21 September
. . . 6pm pick-up.
Another lump of Ireland commandeered for the Pub and
Hayrick [scene]. The town stays up all night to see it.
Eventually, my shot is at 4am. Maybe it’s just as well. The
shivering is fairly authentic by then.
Neil & I and gradually the crew go to the pub for a 6am
drink. It becomes a chance for a mutual affirmation of the wish
to work together again. My brain had long packed its bags so
we may have to have the discussion again with proper
sentences.
Bed at 7am.

25 September
The Treaty Debate. In the Reading Room of Trinity –
beautiful octagonal space filled with great faces . . . Dev takes
hold and hangs on all day towards evening when the camera
comes round. A brief note from Neil and the whole tone shifts
to something more neurotic and darker. But it’s a long, long
smoke-filled day.
 Good then to go to Cooke’s for a farewell supper with Aidan
Quinn. And proper talks with Neil and then Natasha
Richardson who is in the well-known shall I, shan’t I,
dilemma.
And of course Lillie’s beckons until it’s 4am. Again.

1 October
9am The phone rings. It seems only about 3 hours since I went
to sleep. It is only 3 hours since I went to sleep. Down to the
set to re-do a scene with Liam (off-camera but on-glasses).
Now staging for a Tuesday re-shoot. One advantage of this is
spending a Sunday quietly thinking about packing, answering
letters, moving on.

3 October
9.45 pick-up. Reshoot scene with Collins without Liam, with
Neil reading in. Chris wanted to re-do the lighting. Fair
enough. Actors aren’t the only craftspersons.

4 October
Home to mounds of mail and 24 messages. The phone rings.
Emma T. She sounds strange – sort of depersonalised which for
her is a kind of contradiction in terms. If only, once, she would
receive something from a point of innocent joy . . .

9 October
7pm Il Postino. Cinema Paradiso school. At a crucial moment,
the subtitles disappeared, and almost wrecked the film. I didn’t
quite hand myself over to it as completely as I expected to.
Dinner at the Italian afterwards. I landed on the horrendous
possibility of a future spent eating in restaurants. Couldn’t.
Always more fun preparing food in an efficient kitchen and
entertaining friends.

12 October
9.30 Car to Goldcrest to loop Sense and Sensibility. Good to see
Ang and Lindsay. An incredibly irritating sound recorder.
Complete with acting notes?!? ‘Could you put a laugh in here
to cover the gap . . .’

15 October
To → Mum for a.m. visit including hair-raising trip around the
supermarket on her scooter.

16 October
Nothing like enough sleep before getting up and checklisting
myself out the door, into the car and on the way to Heathrow.
Not without hitches. The keys from R.W. The driver leaving
me at Terminal 4, not 1 . . . But eventually I’m on the plane
with Ian McKellen and St Petersburg here we come. Ian is the
best travel companion – funny and generous and curious and as
clumsy as me with his fruit juice all over the seat. Lunch is
taken in a different area.

17 October
Today was re-aligning mixed up with Babelsberg déjà vu,
mixed up with costume fittings for a character I don’t know
yet, so back to the hotel for catch-up time. Which was helpful
in terms of clothes if nothing else.
And before dinner Ian & I wandered into a supermarket,
niet, mini-market and bought the Georgian wine which can
take the blame for these scribblings.

19 October
Will I now ever get used to not having caviar for breakfast??

20 October
First day shooting on Rasputin.
A late start means . . . losing the light so on to the vomit
shot – except for the last take, that is. Some HBO whisperings
and ‘one more take’ with the vomit disappearing behind the
pillar. Any amount of sex and violence, but no visible vomit.

25 October
10am pick-up. Shots lost all the time. [Sedmara] Rutstein has
recorded 3 songs – some of the day is spent learning the words.
Some of it, over lunch, reminding Freddie’s34 mother that he’s
getting paid so stop complaining . . . Finally hit the set around
6pm. ‘We have our instructions,’ says Elemér [Ragályo,
cinematographer], cryptically. But prophetically. Uli [Edel,
director], always in danger of sense of humour absence, is also
sounding more & more like a dictator. A showdown may well
show up.
Back at the hotel, Diana Quick, James Frain,35 Peter
Jeffrey,36 etc., etc. have arrived. We all have dinner in the
Imperial and laugh. Actors are great people, and special and
funny & self-denigrating, so fuck you anyone who disagrees.

26 October
The first real scene. After Rasputin’s first real healing of Alexei.
It’s all about manipulating, cajoling, bullying, flattering,
whatever-ing the director. Off-set Uli has a vulnerability that
shines through his tractor-like nature. On-set, the bark is
insistent, humour almost non-existent, manners unheard-of as
extras are herded and actors given their instructions. ‘You will
stand here, you will do this, you will then do that.’
I, of course, respond to all this like a tank running through
its gears. A mild confrontation eventually ensues when we test
the water of ‘Actors are People’, mainly because he likes the
work, so a moment arrives to explain – as if to a child – how
exactly it is being achieved. How will this fadge? At least the
bark disappeared.
And the pleasures are that Greta [Scacchi] & Ian retain their
wit and good humour as I sail blowsily into the fray. There will
be many laughs ahead . . .
31 October
Scene between Ian and I. Supported by late script notes – but
coming from such a weak, cowardly mouth in production
corner.

1 November
In St Isaac’s. This gift ($35,000 of it) of a location. I don’t think
Uli knows what to do with it. Serviceable, clear narrative
would be a bonus, but again his panic and insecurities come
out as such charmless, mirthless behaviour that it is also
counter-productive. We would all be working better if we were
really working together.

2 November
I go to the set at 6pm only to be sent home again at 8pm.
Somewhere around 10.30 I feel a confrontation coming on, so
I go to look for one. Success. Nick [Gillott, producer] & Uli
are in the bar. Faffing. ‘Out with it’ is had by all. Rehearsals are
promised. Hallelujah.

6 November
This was the day for singing in Russian to a Russian
crew . . . and rowing endlessly with Uli, He Who Waits to Be
Obeyed. No process. In his boyish way he just can’t stop
himself from stopping us if we step outside his storyboard.

7 November
Uli finally said it. When I wondered about a camera coming
with me across the snow, he says ‘Why?’ I reply, ‘It would have
the right energy.’ He says, ‘I do it in the editing room.’

8 November
The body clock is whizzing, rewinding and whirring. No
knowing what time my eyes might click open. Writing this at
8.10am. A brainbox that can’t shake off yesterday’s ‘Why are
you doing this movie?’
9 November
The efforts of yesterday turn into the aches, pains and bruises
of today. Massage and whirlpool help and then off to the
wooden bridge (the actual bridge) for the throwing over of
Rasputin. Ten degrees below is a jaw-dropping temperature
with gloves and coat off, so I hid in the car as much as possible.
I hate last nights, last shots, goodbyes. Casual as possible is all I
can do – hard in the face of an outpouring of affection from
the Russian crew. Makes me wish we were here longer and
with more sensitive leaders.
But the champagne and cake is a happy farewell as the circus
moves on. Later . . . Uli lectures Masha & Olga [who are
playing two of the princesses] about the history of Russia.
Unfuckingbelievable. The almost total lack of curiosity about
another human being . . .

10 November
Vienna Airport. Flew out of St Petersburg at 3.15. Now we’re
two hours back waiting for the 7.50 to Budapest. Totally
confused and wondering what I’m doing. This job engages one
minute and utterly distances the next. Why do I continually
find myself being shunted into the middle of the road?? Is that
the awful convergence of Colin Wilson’s37 2 destinies? Half
involved, half outsider – impossible mix or original one?? The
above prompted by Natasha L.’s38 gloom and doom. Drawing
ill fortune to oneself then meant that our flight was cancelled. 2
hours later we’re on to KLM. Arrive Budapest. Great room
overlooking the Danube and Buda.

11 November
Some work on the script. The Nicholas off to war sequence is
all wrong.
Budapest has been ‘got at’ – McDonald’s, Burger King,
Marks & Spencer. It doesn’t have the flowing impossible beauty
of St Petersburg but there’s something that was obviously
unique being ironed out. The hotel is just Budapest, America.
Imported phones, lamps, cupboards etc. God forbid Americans
should feel they are somewhere ELSE.

13 November
Some days make keeping a diary not only essential but a legal
requirement. My hearing has not been right since the shooting
of Rasputin. Today I asked for a doctor [and] was taken to see a
specialist – no burst eardrum but ‘acute hearing loss’ in the
upper register. 4 hours a day treatment (can’t) or vitamin pills
etc. to regenerate damaged cells – all v. alarming . . . I notice a
quiet panic filling the eyes of producers . . . followed by the
words ‘second opinion’.

14 November
Uli has this irritating ability to look at your instinctive
responses and straighten them in the same breath as
complaining that it’s ‘too neat’, ‘too theatrical’ – too
something. I am reminded of one of those battery-run toy
drummers from the TV ads.
Production designer in the bar later voices the same running
complaint – ‘It was such a good script’ – I keep trying to work
out why it changed. When? How? The stealthy hand of the
money men.

15 November
[Princess] Marisa Scene – Basic Date Rape preceded by the
women either washing my clothes, baking my cakes or sewing
my shirts . . . – no opinions, just hero worship. The Mesmer
echoes resound, the gently reproving faces are a blast from the
past, the shrug of the shoulder exactly the same. We hope for
the best . . .
‘Production’ continues to clodhop its way through this
experience. Joyce [Nettles] is now fired (after Pat, the attempt
on the camera crew & Andy) followed by Hugh Harlow
[production supervisor]. They are all the people I actually
TRUST – is this a coincidence??? A character flaw??
 Sheila Ruskin39 and I, having performed the swiftest
seduction scene in history, are fairly plastered by the time we
leave the bar.

16 November
– only to pick up where we left off – humping at 8am, cameras
and wires everywhere. Taste & judgement & careful placing of
clothing.

17 November
The start of the day is promising (the band is a joy – later I
discovered that one of the dancers was in tears that her
shoulders were uncovered, convinced that her husband would
divorce her – Natasha40 had to move fast with some shawls).
As the day wears on, Uli hits his stride in terms of slowing
the work . . . I fall into bed with murder on my mind.

20 November
Charm. Humour. Perspective. Respect for other people.
Awareness of foreign tongues, customs. All more or less absent
from Herr Director’s psyche. But his vulnerability keeps me
with him rather than on the next plane.

21 November
Marco Polo with a gang, plus Diana Quick who has flown in.
James F.’s last night with us. He’s a real representative of his
generation of actors. Somewhere covered up is his love of his
craft but loud, strong and visible is his knowledge of who’s
doing what film with who, what the grosses were and how to
say Yeah? And Really? As real contributions to a conversation.
Or to cover up (again) his genuine intelligence and warmth lest
they should not be cool qualities. Thank you Thatcher.

22 November
1ish To the hospital for second hearing check. A slight
improvement but they want to do ‘infusions’. 1 hour a day in
the hospital – good luck with that, schedulers.

24 November
Woke knowing there was no way I could work . . . To the set
and straight back to bed and boxes of pills of all
descriptions . . . This kind of sickness robs you of thought –
you are all sensation and none of it is pleasant, except a certain
relief at being still and warm.

25 November
Ian & John41 call by having spent 4 hours rewriting two of
their scenes . . . Ian calls back later with flowers and concern.
He has the biggest heart. Greta told me that yesterday he had
visited her and the monologue went ‘You don’t want those
clothes lying there, do you?’ ‘You don’t want all these trays of
food left here, do you?’ With that room service was called, he
hung all her clothes up and then went into the bathroom
where he cleaned up, and, Greta thinks, even cleaned the bath.
His leaving words were ‘You can’t get well inside if you’re not
well outside, can you.’ There was only one tray for him to
question in my room, but he was certainly looking around.

26 November
Woke feeling lousy . . . What does penicillin do? Mask the
symptoms? Kid you?
Rima sorts it out on the phone, of course. ‘If it’s a virus – no
use but no harm, if it’s a bacteria it’ll help.’ I love her
certainties.

28 November
The virus seems to have eased and allowed a quick entry to the
full 3-sneeze-at-a-time cold.
Watched K. Clarke hurdling through his budget. Good if
you are a rich old person owning vintage cars and drinking
Scotch – why are we surprised.
 Re-reading some pages of this diary is like looking at a graph
of an exhausted mind.

29 November
Back to work . . . By an effort of will we make it through 3
scenes (2 of them on one take . . .).

1 December
Rima arrives – happy little trot around the streets, buy some
shoes at the handmade shop. Some gift items for Greta &
maybe Ian.

2 December
A day of fairly high temperament – or as Jenny says ‘Once you
start on Uli, it’s amazing how many people have got something
else to do.’ But it is impossible to ignore his rudeness. ‘Move
her quicker . . .’ ‘Her’ name is Elena [Malashevskaya, playing
Grand Duchess Olga], she’s been with us from the beginning.
LEARN HER NAME!!!

6 December
Another definition of hell. This time a dinner scene in a room
full of mirrors with a director who HASN’T DONE HIS
FUCKING HOMEWORK. So faff about is the order of the
morning.
G.S. has 2 lines and spends most of the day trying to
remember them in amongst a lot of queening. Not endearing
and deeply remembered. Especially when you have a bunch of
text and continuity muddled together. Strangling springs
constantly to mind.

7 December
10 scenes to shoot (if possible) . . . I watched the plaster/rubber
cast of myself (very creepy) being buried & then, later on,
burned. Uli, only half-joking, had been looking forward to
using me, in person, in the coffin and nailing the lid down (ha
ha ha has to be added to this in a Doberman Pinscher kind of
manner).

10 December
Up to Buda and the Castle to look at locations . . . Now I see
one of our problems – Uli’s fatal indecision and non-
involvement of others. His always shaky sense of humour
completely deserts him. Filming is a blinkered, obsessive
activity with him, somehow to truly involve others is to confess
weakness, or maybe he was bullied, or maybe as John C.42 was
saying his experience of being German with a black Jewish
wife makes him even more defensive. Or maybe he just
shouldn’t bark. In the car on the way back the unsuspecting
driver is yapped at to turn the music off. That’s why I fight him
and don’t love myself for it.

11 December
Mind and body getting v. tired. Morning doing prostitute scene
with Agnes43 who is excellent – usual ‘could you be
provocative’ rubbish going on . . .
Later, an Indian meal with Ian . . . Messages saying S&S a
treat. I feel a holiday coming on in a big way.

14 December
Finally shot the last scene kneeling in wet earth, by the side of
a road, dogs barking, traffic going by . . .
Later at the hotel, Ian, Greta and I have some late supper in
the Grill. Too late, I discover some edible menu food. Greta is
up late. Ian says ‘That’s OK, you’re supposed to look terrible
tomorrow.’

15 December
Today they shot the Romanovs. Not before I had been to the
hospital – no improvement. Now diagnosed as permanent
damage. Those words are all suddenly depressing.
 Inevitably the wrap party (having been moved to the hotel)
moves back to the stage. Sad to finish in such acrimony with
producers. In the bar at the hotel afterwards I attempt to talk to
Uli about the whole experience – he is immovably certain
about his brilliance as a visionary, his tolerance and
understanding of actors. He is wrong about nothing, and even
does his ‘Where is . . .’ moments in the middle of something or
other I was wasting my breath trying to explain.
Second-rate, says Ian. Infuriating say I.

17 December
[London]
Rima toddles off to the Sense and Sensibility screening. I’m
overflowing with cold and post-Rasputin confusion and decide
to stay at home. She returns aglow, which for this Austen freak-
of-all-time is the greatest compliment.

21 December
12.30 To Garfield Davies [ENT specialist]. Identical diagnosis.
Permanent damage – nothing can be done. The pills would
achieve nothing. Like staring at a blank piece of paper. Can’t
really comprehend.

25 December
Whatever law it is, or thinks it is, which says that families must
gather together and get on on a particular day should be
repealed or blown apart.
This was the pits.
Alcohol as ever the great loosener of tongues, truths &
untruths. It can free and it can destroy. The meal at the hotel
was dreadful, appalling service . . . Cold everything, hours
between courses. Too much time to drink. Memories of past
Christmases.
Rima & I end up, thankfully, alone with some cold meat, a
bottle of wine and The American President. Appropriate – a film
about nothing . . .

26 December
A trip to Ruby & Ed’s, where, amazement – a hug from Max.
A first. We leave him v. happily playing with his Geo-Game
and vamoose to Helena & Iain’s party. Neil & Glenys, Jonathan
& Kate, Susie Orbach, Claire Rayner, Alastair Campbell, Jon
Snow etc., etc. – the usual heady mix. BH, what with jet lag
and LA-itis – have to be rescued & led to a quiet room. More
drink, more tears. A sudden flash of opening a door as a child
to find an aunt crying. Christmas, it was, too. Eventually get
away to the only real, real thing – my mother sitting at home,
not well, but happy to see us. Eventually, join R. & E. & B. at
the Standard (local Indian restaurant). Now Miss R. is pissed
and voluble and argumentative. I feel like the top of my head is
coming off, spinning. Pack.

27 December
Painless, easy flight to Toronto.

29 December
Straightforward flight to New York. Beverly Penberthy’s44
brother is there to pick us up and take us to Rye – winter
wonderland via Disney and Hallmark . . . Beverly later cooks
dinner with Martha Clarke45 as an extra guest. The hearing
thing is going to be a battle – it makes me sit ‘outside’ the
conversation . . . But then so does exposure to the ad campaign
for Sense and Sensibility – there’s no escaping who Columbia
thinks is the draw.

30 December
am Looking out of the curved windows at the Sound flowing
by, dark branches filling the window frames, a clear blue/grey
& pale yellow sky – tracking back over this jam-packed year.
Winter Guest Leeds / Sundance / Los Angeles / Winter Guest
London / Berlin / Blair dinner / Snowdon lunch / ABA
premiere / Sense and Sensibility / Michael Collins / Temple Lane
/ Rasputin / St Petersburg & Budapest / no wonder it had to
end with a bang and a few whimpers.
Drive into Manhattan alongside the Hudson. Sunny & warm
– for all the world, a spring day. Glad I brought the overcoat
and scarf . . .

31 December
Lazy morning . . . Eventually we head out . . . to meet Liam &
Natasha for what turns out to be a wonderful, chatty, friendly
lunch – Liam has seen Michael Collins and loves it so –
ONWARD. Natasha tells us a horror story or two about J.R.,
K.B., & E.T. and we gas on till about 3.30.
Over the road to Lee Grant’s46 apt at 11.45pm – huge room,
lots of people (including G. Paltrow & Brad Pitt) stand around,
hold glass, smile, chat, leave with Marcy [Kahan], Pat
[O’Connor], M. E. [Mastrantonio], Diana & Richard & R.
Visit Marcia’s £3m squat.
Bed. Early call. Bye bye 1995.
1
Scottish actors Sheila Reid (1937–), who played Lily, and Sandra Voe (1936–), who
played Chloe
2
British actor (1953–)
3
The director was Bryan Singer.
4
Shallow Grave had been recently released.
5
A.R. is referring to Ang Lee.
6
English artist and stage designer (1904–1978)
7
Arena: The Peter Sellers Story (BBC2, 1995)
8
He walked out of his lead role in Simon Gray’s Cell Mates and fled to Belgium.
9
British talent agent (1947–). He was A.R.’s agent during the early part of his
career.
10
[A.R.’s publicist]
11
Stealing Beauty (1996)
12
British actor and model (1972–)
13
American journalist (1951–); Gail was his then wife
14
Irish writer (1944–)
15
American writer (1948–)
16
English actor and satirist (1936–1998)
17
Club modelled on a Victorian brothel
18
British theatre director (1927–). The book was One Foot on the Stage.
19
British actor Rosalind March
20
British actor (1962–), sister of Emma Thompson
21
Australian-Brazilian-Italian production designer (1940–)
22
Labour MP (1908–1993)
23
Jonathan Pryce, for playing Lytton Strachey in Carrington
24
American actor (1952–2004), best known for playing Superman, paralysed in a
riding accident
25
De Valera: Long Fellow, Long Shadow
26
Elizabeth Spriggs, English actor (1929–2008)
27
He had been arrested in Los Angeles with a prostitute.
28
British actor (1950–)
29
Éamon de Valera
30
Department store
31
Mother Mary Gonzaga Barry, Irish-Catholic religious sister (1834–1915)
32
Irish politician (1868–1927)
33
Jonathan Rhys Meyers, who played Michael Collins’ assassin
34
British actor Freddie Findlay (1983–), who played Tsarevich Alexei
35
English actor (1968–)
36
English actor (1929–1999)
37
Author of The Outsider
38
Natasha Landau, costume designer
39
English actor Sheila Ruskin (1946–). She played Princess Marisa, who asks
Rasputin to bless her but before he does he insists she has sex with him.
40
Natasha Gorina, make up supervisor
41
John Wood, English actor (1930–2011)
42
John Cater, English actor (1932–2009)
43
Ági Kökényessy, Hungarian actor (1967–)
44
American actor (1932–)
45
American theatre director and choreographer (1944–)
46
American actor, documentarian and director (born mid 1920s)
 1996
DUBLIN – MICHAEL COLLINS – ISABELLE HUPPERT
– THE WINTER GUEST – SENSE AND SENSIBILITY –
DUNBLANE MASSACRE – LOS ANGELES – THE
ENGLISH PATIENT – NEW YORK – CANNES – FIFE –
GLYNDEBOURNE – IAN McKELLEN – PASADENA –
GLASGOW – NEW YORK – VICTORIA WOOD – FIFE

15 January
Lunch at Kensington Place with Hilary Heath. She and
Jonathan Powell want me to play whatshisname1 in Rebecca –
but it’s a 4 part TV. So I said I can’t. You may act the same (or
better) but somehow TV drags it down. Unless it’s a sitcom in
the US (Tom Hanks, Roseanne) and TV drags you up.
Impossible conundrum.
7.30 The Glass Menagerie.
Another production from Sam Mendes. What is it about
him? Theatre is a playground or a wet-wipe of personal
therapy, it seems. No real resonance – no sense of the danger of
an unpredictable outburst. All carefully arranged. Zoë
Wanamaker can look after herself but she needs to be
challenged. Claire Skinner2 can do that standing on her head. It
all passes before our eyes masquerading as the real thing.

17 January
Supper with Belinda & Hugh and Frances B[arber]. An evening
of the most News of the Worldish details. Thank whatever I’m
discreet . . . Frances is a life force – tidal waves of laughter and
perception. Just don’t tell her too many stories; her repertoire is
full enough.

18 January
An appalling hangover – headache, ailing back and neck. The
works. Never again.

22 January
Watch S&S in growing dismay. It has been cut to focus only on
the women’s journey – the men are mindless. Sad – we should
care who they are marrying.

23 January
Still brooding, of course. There is a definite sense with S&S
that all the corners have been knocked off – no eccentricities,
no focus on what is happening to (particularly) Brandon. We are
holding the plot together.

24 January
Lunch with Kate Ryding at L’Accento. She’s deaf in one ear so
we make a pretty pathetic sight, picking the seats best for our
particular ailments.

25 January
Michael Collins beckons.
12.50 → Dublin and Ardmore Studios. Neil’s hair is longer
but his rhythms haven’t changed. No sooner started looping a
scene than he wants to talk about/show me another. Of course,
the looping is all the most emotional stuff. All you can do is get
on with it. (Having been told the film is great.) Good group of
editors, and we’re out of there in an hour. Neil drives us into
Dublin – his driving is like his conversation – gear shifts and
braking and accelerating in no discernible order. We have a
welcome pint of Guinness at the Shelbourne . . .

26 January
To the airport for the 2.15 flight to London.
Talk to Emma, she’s very pro the idea of Winter Guest or
Winter’s Guest as the US contingent call it. Siân Thomas is in
the front of my brain as my finger reaches for the phone dial.
Such clear waters already become murky. But a little
determined honesty will help.

28 January
Talking to Emma T., realise the British Film Industry kicks
itself in the face again by putting the S&S premiere in the
Curzon . . . 560 seats up a side street.

29 January
One minute talking about film deals, the next about hearing
aids and a demonstration of how to pull up your pants with a
mechanical gripper.
pm over to see Mum and Aunt Elsie. Who says sisters should
get on? But it is still depressing to watch the endless obstinacy
and sniping – fortunately with moments of ease and good
humour but stubbornness rules.
A welcome evening alone. Salutary to watch the Evening
Standard Film Awards. Thora Hird emerged with her dignity
intact. And she made me laugh. Double hero.

31 January
Rima’s birthday – the day spent organising the evening . . . All
down to the always reliable Ivy. I must own part of it by now.

1 February
Leila Bertrand [casting director] comes over to talk through
And All That Jazz her London-through-the-eyes-of-a-
Dominican-girl-in-the-1950s film script. She, John Clive,3
Thandie Newton all good reasons to be involved. At this stage
suggesting a reading is the most helpful thing.
Word from LA . . . that Rasputin has been seen and liked.
Two late nights – woken too early – tiredness takes over and
signs of how that affects the hearing and seems to focus on the
tinnitus. Depressing. And a vicious circle.
3 February
Sandra and Michael Kamen. Supper with Rima, Bryan Adams
and Cecilie [B.A.’s girlfriend]. More surprises since Bryan turns
out to be a regular guy who worries about buildings and
doesn’t do drugs. Cecilie is a top – maybe super – model who’s
in it for a couple of years etc., etc.
At maybe 2am Michael played us the new theme song to the
(v. worrying) Jack movie. And then rippled through the Winter
Guest like a spring tide.

4 February
To Mum and Aunt Elsie with lunch. This mental digging and
need is odd to watch. Whatever its downside, Mum is looking
much healthier. Possibly from bossing someone around or
having a rare opportunity to display the diva at her centre.
Covent Garden’s loss.
And hopelessly touching with Rima & I, hands on the
handles of a wheelchair each, out for a walk around the park, as
all four of us pause to look at the magpies waddling about in
the sunset.

6 February
To Isabelle Huppert. The easiest person to talk to – full of
laughter and the ability to focus on the turn of a sixpence. And
curious, too. So un-English. Her courage makes me want to
act in French tomorrow.

7 February
7.15 Volpone at the National. Gambon magnificent and so
wicked. Doubtful that [Ben] Jonson called one of the servants
Kevin . . . The production leaves you wanting – the set spins,
the language flings itself around, the acting is (mostly) brave but
there is a general air of UNEXPLORED. Simon Russell Beale
has a wonderfully pitched reading. I wish he would find
different mouth-shapes.
11 February
As this birthday approaches there is this strong, strong desire to
control the past (photographs, old scripts, mementos) or sling it
out. Very freeing. Look in the wardrobe – if there are clothes
which slightly depress you to look at them – maybe out they
could go.
Watching tape of Ruby with Roseanne [Barr] – mostly a
delight but Ruby should just let them speak. Let’s just look at
them.

12 February
. . . a sad message from Alex Sheriffs.4

13 February
Which continues when I phone this morning. Roberta Sheriffs
had been taken into St Mary’s on Sunday and having not been
expected to make it through the night, is still there. But only
just – and now they have phoned Alex to tell her she has
maybe 5 minutes. I jump in a cab to meet Alex there which we
do, on the stairs. Arriving at the ward – Roberta has gone. The
curtains are all around the bed, the nurses sympathetic, but
going in – gone is the word. If I didn’t know, it would be
impossible to recognise her. The spirit has truly left this face
and body. A sense not so much of death, but of what life is,
because of its extraordinary absence. Alex combs her hair, over
and over, and wipes her mouth, her eyes, kisses her and talks to
her. Much more direct than I, who can only photograph it
mentally. Forever. The doctor is clear and patient because now
Alex needs to talk in details. Then we all go off for an Italian
lunch where we laugh as much as we can. Which is a lot.
The value-battles which have somehow been designed for
me reach a kind of apotheosis because today is Academy Award
nominations day. Let’s draw a veil over my own confused
response to everything and merely record a happy L’Accento
supper with Conor McDermottroe (here to stay).
14 February
Academy nominations for Emma & Kate yesterday but not Ian,
nor Nicole K. Crazy days.

15 February
8pm Hampstead.
Stephen Poliakoff ’s new play. Absolutely accosted by Stephen
in the foyer with instructions that I was not to give notes to his
actresses. How could I? Both brilliant in another of Stephen’s
trips along the razor edges, the high wire.

18 February
12 Isabelle’s lunch at the Ivy upstairs. 34? people round the
beautiful oval table. The kind of day you wish would go on and
on . . . Other than that – with hindsight, the room full of
echoes. Especially of women I have played opposite – and as I
look around – Juliet, Fiona, Paola, Harriet, Saskia, Deborah,
Beatie, Zoë, Gillian, Anna – it is a source of pride.

20 February
The bar at the Ivy to wait for Isabelle. Bomb scares all over the
place – London a fragile place to be.

21 February
2am Judy Hoflund calls from LA for an early Happy Birthday.
The trouble with this job is that you can watch yourself &
your friends growing older in full colour, close up. Flip a
switch to rewind or fast forward. Too fast forward.
1.15 To Alastair Little for lunch w. Ruby & Suzanne Bertish.
Ruby brings me coffee grinder and saucepans – Suzanne a
crystal. They’re a good balance these two – Suzanne with her
beautiful laugh and grounded heart – Ruby whizzing about as
ever.
Home to get ready.
 6.30 The car is here and by 6.45 we’re on the way to the
Curzon Mayfair for Sense and Sensibility premiere which is a
good distraction from the birthday . . . Old friends in new
frocks, line-up for Prince Charles (tell him he should have
played my part) and in to the film. Terrible sound but cuts
apart it’s a beautiful piece of work. To the Whitehall
Banqueting Rooms for supper – wonderful Rubens on the
ceiling – with Richard W. & Isabelle H. in the car. Harriet
comes after her show. Jocelyn Stevens’5 crowd insists that I ‘Go
on! Say something! It’s him! With the voice!’

22 February
A truly awful day after – no sleep, too much wine, unresolved
everything; long slow dull pain. A real feeling of why bother?
Everywhere is tension from friends to politics. What’s going
on? Maybe the wind will turn, but at the moment there is a
gnawing feeling that this life offers only fleeting moments
when it all comes together because the rest of it requires a fitter
body and a more grown-up mind.
None of it helped by spending the day alone. Janet comes to
clean, the phone rings – agent business, mortgage business. But
the contrast to all the glitter of yesterday makes both seem
aimless.
Count blessings. Grow up.

24 February
Watch Shawshank Redemption. ‘Expertly done’ would be the
review. Not a foot wrong. Classy. I just wish this had not
extended even to the immaculate hairdos of all the inmates.
When will a director tell a hair person to STOP tidying
everyone up – it’s an awful reflex action.

26 February
11.15 The car, after a bit of last-minute phoning, planning and
parking, picks me up and first stop is Kristin Milward’s who is
coming with me on a trip to Berlin. Columbia needs me to
pick up the Golden Bear. Ang’s away, Emma’s in hiding or
purdah, but it’s an opportunity to see old friends.
5pm – Phone interview with the US. And write short
speech to be delivered in German.
6.30 Christina, Klaus & Christophe [German friends of
A.R.] bring a bottle of champagne to the hotel, then off to the
prize-giving. Clamber on stage and receive Golden Teddy . . .

3 March
8pm The Dorchester, to sit around & order room service with
Susan Sarandon who has come in to do publicity for Dead Man
Walking. Susan is a mind on speed – equal emphasis as she skids
from politics to her career to Tim [Robbins, her partner] to her
kids. Which other mother takes 2 of them river rafting in
Idaho?

6 March
2.30 Judy Daish’s office – really beautiful space – a perfect
frame for Judy’s merry, thoroughbred personality.
Later, finishing Draft 2 Winter Guest. Some adjusting and
maybe Hey Presto. It is a great script.

7 March
Isabelle wants an escort for the Restoration premiere. I put Hugh
Fraser into a tailspin by suggesting him. But he’s going.

9 March
3pm Tommy matinée. Stunning production. The critics
sniping . . . is real anal retention. Just go with it.
5.20 To . . . the Groucho Club to talk with Des McAnuff
about his film Cousin Bette,6 which as I said to him is like
mixing Feydeau with Ibsen. Is that possible? He’s good to talk
to, though. Today I managed a little less. Filling potential
pauses. Sometimes you don’t know the end of the sentence
upon which you have just embarked. Scary.
10 March
12.15 Car to Grayshott Park [spa]. 4 days away from the phone
and the builders. 4 days with no alcohol and limited food. 4
days with regular exercise.
But starting with 45 minutes of face massage and creams &
mask. So what the doctor ordered that I dozed off and at one
point frightened the masseuse out of her wits with a loud
snore.
Side-product is that scripts are getting read and letters
written. Hallelujah.

11 March
9.30 Dietician – what can she say? It’s a ridiculous lifestyle.
10.15 Steam room.
10.45 Massage. And we can. None of your Champney’s
nonsense.
Lunchtime preceded by swim and hot-tub.
2.30 An hour’s coaching on the tennis court. Instant
improvement, years of bad habits. Completely whacked.
5pm Cranial osteopathy. Drifting in and out of a kind of
sleep/dream state. And when she says at the end ‘you’re more
balanced now’ (or somesuch) – I was.

12 March
Lunch is a question of how much can I get on the plate
without falling on the floor on the way from buffet to table.
5.30 Holistic massage – about as close to sex as it is legal to
get here, methinks. She insists on complete nakedness and the
hands and oil are SLOW.
Two hours later she’s done. I might have enjoyed it but for
the ghastly new age ‘Relaxation’ music and the growing
suspicion that she was getting most out of it. ‘It’s a lovely job –
I just can’t wait to get my hands on all those naked bodies.’
 Very comatose. Pretty damn peckish.

13 March
Today was made somewhat irrelevant by the slaughter of all
those children in the school gymnasium in Dunblane. I didn’t
find out until the afternoon so the Reflexology wasn’t
complicated by other thoughts, but the Flotation Tank
certainly was. My brain fought it all the way trying to make it
less self-indulgent, I suppose. What do you mean let yourself
go, think of nothing?
If I hadn’t been leaving tomorrow, I would have anyway. To
do what, I don’t know, but just to join in again. Taking myself
out of it has been very valuable not to say very expensive and
gives rise to all kinds of examinings. How do you equate a
week here with a drama student’s living expenses with a jacket
for LA with Mum’s chair with etcetera etcetera. The truth is, I
have been stroked a lot for four days but not by someone I love.
And up in Scotland tonight there is all that love and all that
loss.

14 March
This morning’s TV coverage – and all British life is there.
Channel 4 manages to intersperse news reports with silly games
– how? BBC is dry as dust, GMTV more alive to the situation,
but smug and judgemental with it. Talk of the killer ‘burning
in hell’ helps no one . . . The murderer was also five years old
once. Look at him and look at the photos of the children.
What happens to us as we move on from their complete
innocence – no knowledge of hate, repression, race,
responsibility. Just smiling faces – no thoughts beyond the next
half hour. Why is it only men who years later pick up the
guns? What do we do to ourselves to create these monsters
within us? Or is it innate? Whatever, GMTV’s simplicities are
grotesque.

19 March
10am pick-up for 12.15 flight to Los Angeles.
 Ian McK. & his boyfriend Ridian at the ticket desk. Which
makes for a really enjoyable flight.

20 March
7.15 Pick-up for Rasputin screening. Just as I am about to ‘cure’
Alexei a voice from the back says ‘Is there a doctor in the
house? We have an emergency in the foyer.’ I nearly got up
until I remembered I know nothing. Weird sound. Weird
screening. Maybe R. was visiting. Dinner at the Eclipse. I think
no one really knows what to make of the film. No wonder – it
has been directed by at least a dozen people.

24 March
5.15 Judy at the hotel to go to Lindsay [Doran] & Rodney’s
house for S&S reception. It is a little like a house for an
American Agatha Christie film. And it’s true – built in the ’30s
and feeling like a historic monument. Emma & Greg brown &
happy.
8.30 To Martha L.’s house for reception for Susan Sarandon
and Tim Robbins. There is a growing certainty in the room,
the town, the water that Susan is going to win tomorrow. And
that’s the Oscars – it’s not her best performance but it’s time.
And the Academy has no way to deal with the subtlety of Tim’s
direction so he won’t win.7

25 March
2pm Meet Ian to drive w. Ridian to David Hockney’s studio.
It’s an industry – offices, files, underlings. Going into a vast
studio/exhibition space D.H. is asleep on the sofa. This is a
pinch me time, as we go on to his home on Mulholland. All
his enthusiasms as his mind bounces around showing us his new
things, schemes. He takes Polaroids of the 3 of us and then
Xeroxes & enlarges it. Ridian is the lucky recipient. His
deafness only seems to increase. His awakeness, his laughter, the
colour which he almost swims in, in this house.
 5.45 to the Bel Air Hotel to pick up Greg and on to Judy’s
house . . . The Braveheart evening. Ent Weekly had thought
‘S&S may have peaked.’ What a world. Afterwards to . . . the
Columbia party. Noise, cameras, food, drink. A vague sense of
disappointment in the room. I feel distanced from it. Emma &
Kate arrive – noise, cameras, Emma & Katery.

26 March
9.30 Breakfast w. Anthony & Carolyn Minghella plus their
business managers – John and Duncan.
Robert Young replaces them – we talk of last night (his film
Usual Suspects had picked up two).
Julia Roberts comes in looking for Susan’s celebration
brunch – her waist is the most encirclable. On the way out pass
Susan who is tired but very OK.

27 March
7am Check out and to LAX with Anthony Minghella for the
flight to San Francisco . . .
pm I watched a 4-hour assembly of The English Patient.
Absolutely exhausting, but riveting, too, in terms of
storytelling, coverage, shot-making, acting. The lot. It
confirmed what I thought when I read the script – this film
will be made in the editing room.
Back home I spew up two responses. Anthony is like a happy
dog at his bowl. I can see how obsessive this directing lark
might be. Ralph Fiennes, Kristin Scott Thomas, Willem Dafoe
and Juliette Binoche all wonderful. Great to see such intelligent
acting. Not just splurging.

28 March
Back at the ranch (almost literally) Anthony decides to look up
A.R. on the internet – 368 entries. It’s like reading about a
stranger. Especially when they write about who I live next door
to, or don’t . . . But mostly they are good-hearted. It’s like
having a band of cheerleaders, all tapping away into the night.

9 April
7.30 To Santa Monica for Michael Collins test screening. And
still it’s an action movie with not enough politics. Boys Own
Revolution. Do the explosions cancel out in art as in life? But
it’s work in progress, so there’s time to help the narrative. Neil
sort of there – up and down in his seat. ‘Do you have a
cigarette?’ ‘Are you with it?’

11 April
Judy calls to tell me of the Daily Mail hate piece. Heigh ho.

12 April
[London]
8pm Michael Kamen’s birthday party . . . memorable for
meeting Sharon Stone – a truly attractive woman, in the real
sense of light in the eyes attractive – and smart and funny. No
wonder she doesn’t have a man.

14 April
1.15 Lunch at the Ivy w. Peter Medak [film director], Julia
Migenes [opera singer], Louise Krakower [film producer], Ruth
Myers [costume designer] & Isabella Rossellini. Great to meet
Ms R. finally . . . Her beauty is the kind that stops you
concentrating on what she’s saying sometimes because you are
fixated by the shape of her mouth.

28 April
New York.
12 Wyndham Hotel.
A huge shadow casts itself across the day with the news of
how seriously ill Diane Bull8 has become – life in a snap of the
fingers. We press on as Jonathan talks to London. It’s a luxury
working with these people – all with strong opinions and all
able to take short cuts so that we gradually rebuild the
programme. I worry that there isn’t enough humour, though.
7ish Circo – Tina Brown/New Yorker/Almeida bash.
A huge crush of people. For most of the evening I only
made it to the edge of the throng. Then suddenly the room
had cleared. Americans are like that – not the English, we hang
on long past the time we’re welcome picking at the food and
looking for wine in empty bottles.

29 April
2pm Laura Pels Theatre, Broadway & 45.
For a while I thought we might not get through it all –
negotiating moves and scribbling them down. By 6 we had
finished and went to the dressing room. I could not even
remember who entered first by this point. A sandwich was sent
for, Natasha Richardson & I went to the supermarket over the
road. A quiet trawl through the hurried jottings.
8pm – Performance. First half v. pushed. Inevitably. Fishing
around. Who are you? What’s this material? Who am I? Where
am I? But the audience gradually decides to trust it all and the
second half is lighter. The balance of the material was fine. By
the end it was all very special and joyous.

12 May
Cannes Film Festival 96.
. . . to Nice. A car to the Hotel du Cap in Cannes. V.
expensive monk’s cell . . . it’s £60 to have your suit cleaned. A
200F cab ride to the party for Kansas City. No one got me a
drink but the charm button was in full operation and the final
reward was to meet Robert Altman. Human, warm, open, fun.
ICON 1. 3am in the bar. ICON 2. Mick Jagger.

13 May
12 [midnight] Trainspotting. First time up that red carpet.
Except we are ½ hour early, so it’s not exactly thick with
atmosphere. But there at the top is Lord Grade – worth the
visit. 89 years old and waiting in the midnight air to watch
Trainspotting. And so generous in his appreciation. Also there –
Damon Albarn, Leonardo DiCaprio, V. Bottomley9 plus Danny
Boyle, of course. The film is an advert for drugs. A brilliant
one.

25 May
9.05 Odeon Kensington. Secrets and Lies.
Like watching your own life flash by. Things that aunts did
or said and mums never forgot and never talked about leaving
you perplexed as you open Xmas doors on sobbing relatives.
Tim Spall quite wonderful.

31 May
7pm To the Covent Garden Hotel to pick up Laura Dern and
on to the NT for Designated Mourner. Wally Shawn [the play’s
author] in the foyer before, at the stage door afterwards and at
the Ivy. What to say? I do not know what was going on but it
was happening with great style and wit. The Ivy was fun –
especially because Fay Presto10complete with playing card on
the ceiling.

2 June
9ish To Searcys for Brian Cox’s birthday party. All human
acting was there (including a little boy who was the image of
Rima).

6 June
The early morning scratchy throat.
10.15 Ear Test.
The bug starts to wander from the head to the chest.
 7pm Dash in order [not] to miss the curtain for 7.30 English
National Opera Fidelio . . . That 1st act quartet is one of the
most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. David Hockney there and
he tells a joke about Degas and the telephone that I still don’t
quite get.
Later – the Ivy.
and later – Lemsip revisited.

9 June
12 To David Suchet’s birthday party dinner . . . Nothing
prepares me for the ultimate cute High Street, or David &
Sheila’s vast, perfect garden. Red check table cloths flapping in
the kind of heat that nails you down.
2.45 An undignified exit with Duncan for Susan
Fleetwood’s11 memorial service which was fine but nearly
ruined by the egomaniac rector of St James’s.

10 June
11ish Sharman arrives and we start working through the text
and timing the scenes.

12 June
2ish am – call Ian McK. in Los Angeles. He’s full of stories –
the Indian guru at Goldie Hawn’s house. ‘Are those Marlboro
you are smoking?’

14 June
To Marks & Spencer to find a sweater & dress for Mama.

7 July
Emma & Phyllida for tea. This felt a little like an exam. No
one’s fault but a major career is being handed over for a
temporary outing here, and she has a right to feel nervous.

11 July
8 Dinner with Michael & Sandra Kamen. Ruby v. funny about
her trip to Paris as Vogue critic for the new collection. She
learnt how to say ‘Who the fuck is she?’ in 11 languages since
she was always put in Seat 1A.

14 July
12 Richard W.’s birthday. His 60th – with friends and filled
with his generosity. He should be a grandfather – he loves
children so much. Before the party he was patiently organising
the toys as the canapes were floating by.

15 July
8am Flight to Edinburgh.
Dinner (late) with Anthony, John, John-Ross & David. A
phalanx of parents in the bar. Chinese opposite the Lyceum.
Suddenly they have moved from boys to teenagers. John-Ross
has a new voice, David found his height, John seems 18 at 14,
only Anthony has the same rubber-ball bouncing inside him
(only with more room now he’s 9” taller).
A message to call Rima. Mum is in hospital. Not much
sleep.

16 July
A day of hopping about between towns on the Fife coast.
Somewhere in here Anstruther and Pittenweem assert
themselves in the midst of wondering whether it’s all about
something simpler, starker.
8ish Dinner . . . with Christian Zanone. Thai. He talks of
passing his exams with no work. Subtle changes to his face too.
I find myself looking at him as casting directors must look at
actors – too much this, not enough that. At least he retains his
sweet-tempered side. Talks of playing Malvolio and washing up
at a refuge centre in Italy with equal emphasis.

17 July
To Loch Lomond in order to rule it out. And on to the West
Coast – Largs, Troon, Prestwick, Ayr. In order to scream
quietly. Ayr is summer hell. But at Saltcoats there was a
wonderful walkway & wall & strange abandoned house which
should be remembered.
In essence the Fife coast could certainly work if we keep the
camera away from the picturesque and concentrate on rock
formations, walls, lighthouse. The writing is crenellated
enough.

19 July
1.30 To Cheyne Walk and on to Glyndebourne with Barbara &
Ken Follett. Ken pissed off because no car/no driver or
something. He very much likes things to go according to plan.
Champagne & canapes in the car going down etc.

3 August
5pm St Columba’s Church, Pont Street, for Dusty12 & Jessica
Hughes’s wedding.
A church, at first seeming an atmosphere-free zone, but in
the end its simplicity, not to mention its great choir – some
beautiful Mozart – and the picture of Dusty’s mother gently
disappearing into Alzheimer’s as her nurse talks her through the
service – made the whole thing rather wonderful.
The reception at Leighton House meant sitting next to
Kathy Lette who has to be the world champion flirt.

11 August
1.30 Cab to Ian McKellen’s house on the river for Suzanne
Bertish’s birthday party. Sean13 is there in high spirits and
obviously duck to watering on his film of Bent, and Frances
Barber on devastating form with tales of Chichester life – NB
never divulge anything to her that you do not want spread like
soft margarine. Even she had to stop Imogen Stubbs with a
warning hand when Imogen had started a sentence with
‘Strictly entre nous . . .’ – which we decided was the title of
Frances’ one-woman show when she has had enough and
wants to end her career.

7 September
10.30 pick-up. 12.15 → Los Angeles.
This is a kind of insanity – a 48-hour turnaround. But there
had been a nagging feeling that I should go.

8 September
3.30ish pick-up for the trip to Pasadena.14 Louise and Judy
both in black. Judy brings a bottle of Cristal and at the time it
felt like something for later . . . Arrive there and hoopla,
hoopla. Banks of seats for star watchers, Joan Rivers asking me
who made my suit . . . On air & there’s Oprah. The jet lag is
kicking in, the ceiling is starting to spin a bit, some instinct
connected to the Cristal made me try to remember a few
thankyou names, and then there was Helen Mirren winning
and then the electric shock of hearing your own name.
C[hristine] Baranski in gold, a red Cybill Shepherd – the first
arms outstretched, the second all reserve. A dazzling blur
followed – shepherded through room after room of cameras,
microphones, laptops. For TV awards! . . . Then a party . . .

9 September
Talking to Judy later I hadn’t realised quite what a long shot I
was.
8.55[pm] → London.

11 September
9.45 car to Dr Gaynor.
Apparently I am now classed as ‘impossible’ on the insurance
form, so a major overhaul necessary. Interesting and typical that
actors aren’t indispensable.
Later – to the Art Dept. Bless them – a banner strung across
the room. Work going on; steadily becoming the real thing.
15 September
7.45 pick-up → Heathrow and Glasgow. Pick up Seamus
[McGarvey, cinematographer] and on to Fife. Walking all over
the streets and rocks that will be the frosted life of this film.
Seamus’ favourite word for all the possibilities opening up in
front of him is ‘mental’.

16 September
On to Elie to wait for Emma & Phyllida. It is good to have
them here and for them to spend time with Seamus. Of course
they all instantly get on and we do the street/rock walk again.
This time properly discovering the inside of Chocs ’N Things –
which will become a haunt – a throwback filled as it is with
homemade chocolates, Jenny’s Boilings, Parma Violets and
those edible necklaces that my sister used to chew on ’til there
was a string of tasty elastic around her wrist and neck.

24 September
RADA to look at final Vanbrugh model. I went in with boxing
gloves on, but the little white box seems to contain the best
solutions and Bryan Avery [architect] was genuinely grateful for
the intervention.
A rush back to the photography shop for Alessandro &
Elizabeth’s wedding present and then into the car for the 2.45
→ Newark.
On the plane watching Blue in the Face – a new hero; the
man who takes plastic bags out of trees . . . Then a great
Cracker episode – camera handled so confidently. I got scared
for the second time in days.
Dinner . . . Neil J[ordan]. The human butterfly, spray-gun,
jack in a box, grasshopper with a heart.

25 September
New York.
 9.45 → to the Regency for the first day of the junkets.
Roomfuls of questions. Julia Roberts there in a corridor with
her surroundable waist. The usual mix of questions, the usual
avoidance tactics – a slight sense of being perched on my own
shoulder.
Lunch with Aidan and Liam, who are studying all the TV
ads for the film. Michael Collins – the buddy film.

26 September
10am pick-up. And into the TV interviews. 6 minutes each.
Amazing how quickly the questions become standard. What is
it like portraying someone who lived? What research did you
do? How was Neil/Liam? Were you worried about subject
matter? Tell us the history of Ireland and, later in the day, ‘Who
do you think is sexy in the movies?’

28 September
7ish arrive London.
8pm Victoria Wood – Albert Hall.
A staggering performance. She delivers the material so fast it
could easily be the basis for an all-day performance if she
slowed down a bit. Brilliant demolition job on Christmas.
Including an alarming reference to Die Hard in front of 6,000
people.

4 October
Fife.
8.30 Dinner w. Ross, Liz, Seamus, Sharman, Arlene, Steve
[Clark-Hall, producer] at the Balgeddie House. This is home
now for a few weeks. Country house, huge back lawn, fir trees,
comfortable, good food – but 30 mins away from
Elie/Pittenweem. This could be a drag.

6 October
Sleeping late is sometimes just a matter of limbs which won’t
move. Which they did at 11.30 when Arthur [Morrison,
transport captain] dropped us all at St Monan’s for the 3 mile
cliff walk to Elie. Breathtaking. Cliffs, rocks, beaches, slopes,
expanses, ruins, even a tunnel. Panic, too, that these are all
overlooked locations. But maybe not, on reflection. Difficult
access, and sometimes too much figure in a landscape.
Lunch at the blessed Ship Inn has Finnan haddock
overflowing the plate. Sticky toffee pudding after. How will I
survive all this?

11 October
10am → Haircuts.
Douglas Murphy15 particularly stricken by losing his
curtains. He’s a complicated boy – way ahead of his years in
vocabulary, ideas, brain-power but reduced to sitting on the
floor with a hat on his head at having his ‘fat face’ (not true, of
course) exposed.
4pm to the office. Emma & Phyllida have arrived. She looks
great in her new, short hair.

12 October
To the Golf [Hotel] for Emma & Phyllida’s costume fittings.
Emma nicks my sweater for the film.

14 October
6.25am – The alarm beeps; from elsewhere in the hotel, low
voices, creaking floors, distant toilet flushes. It’s still dark out,
but through the wide sashed window apart from the lights of
Glenrothes I can see the sky – frighteningly clear. Seamus will
have his nose to the window pane, no doubt.
Here we go!
11pm. Back at the hotel after an Indian meal . . . an amazing
day – like the first day at RADA. A calmness has been around
me for days – something about being surrounded by the right
people at the right time. We got some great shots, missed some.
The tide chased us away, the skies beckoned us back.

17 October
Impossibly sunny day. We did one shot of Emma crossing the
bridge but anything else would have been pointless. In the
teeth of some pressure, I asked to move inside.
The rest of the day was saved by ace teamwork. We were up
and running by about 2.30pm and by 6.30 had shot most of the
bathroom [scene]. Emma fantastic just obeying commands
scene by scene. Stand, turn on taps, sit, listen to music, cry . . .

25 October
Thousands of feet of film waiting for a seagull to take a piece of
fish from Douglas’s nervous fingers.

26 October
Emma really is a Rolls-Royce. Every detail perfectly angled to
the camera. Every thought clear and placed. The job is to keep
her vocally centred instead of veering into an upper register
which I suspect is where she can monitor herself best.

30 October
Rushes look wonderful – Bravo Seamus. (On the way there,
help upturn a crashed car. ‘Are you Alan Rickman?’)

31 October
And so to looping. The tide beats us and Emma & Phyllida
play the scene with water crashing against the beach and only
just out of shot.
And the devil came to sit on my shoulder making it hard to
mask my anger at potential cuts and the inevitable compromises
of weather & schedules.
5ish. Joan [Bergin] had decorated the bars for Halloween. I
was in such a non-party mood and couldn’t shake it off.
 In bed by 9pm. Shattered and not really capable of talking
coherently with Sharman.

1 November
Sleep and the wind blew it all away. And E. & Ph. being
wonderful all day. How do they do it? Rigorous and good-
humoured.

2 November
10ish Finding Sharman in the bar – yes, she has been
waiting . . . Odd, this stage – when she wants to hang on and
let go. The bartering of cuts goes on over breakfast.

6 November
Talk to the US re Man in Iron Mask movie. The 4 Musketeers
again?? I suppose they are aiming at Braveheart. Depressing. &
CAA [Creative Artists Agency] asked when I begin shooting.
And Clinton got in again.

15 November
9.30[pm] Rima arrives. As usual, most things calm down.

17 November
Breakfast at Rusacks.
Walk along the Chariots16 beach.

18 November
Hopelessly sunny day. Blue, blue sky. Freezing – but blue.
Useless. Except when Seamus can mask off the sunlight.

19 November
A day of hail, frost, freezing wind. The crew stuck outside in it
all day . . . A pile of shots to wade through, a pile of cakes to
eat . . . the gale rages on . . . What will Mother N. sling at us
tomorrow?
23 November
8.30 Party at Rufflets. White parachute silk marquee. Great
food. Candlelight, ivy, fairy lights, music. We could have
danced all night and as I write this at 4.04am we almost did . . .

30 November
Back to Pittenweem for the helicopter shots.
Turns out to be a bit of an ‘if only’ day amongst other
things. If only I hadn’t been chicken, I would have gone up in
the helicopter earlier and we would have got better shots,
better timing. Heigh ho. When I did go up, I could slow them
down and focus the thing. From then on it was like something
from a cop movie . . . By now of course the sun had come out
plus the road was too narrow to turn round on, plus the pilot
had to be on his way back to Inverness by 3pm or it would be
too dark to land. No pressure. We pointed the camera and
hoped for the best. Waved goodbye to Sheila and at 2.50
headed back to Pittenweem. Emma ran along the pier as we
flew in and then we circled round to find Gary17 on the
doorstep and then up and away. Exhilarating and mad.

2 December
Long scenes. Pages of dialogue. Some good on the spot cutting
made them leaner and more specific. Sharman will hate some
of the cuts, however.

3 December
Dinner w. Emma, Greg, Phyllida & Seamus. The young
journalist sits outside reading a book. At some time I suppose
this girl was at university and full of ambitions.

4 December
Emma’s last day. And to all intents, Phyllida’s. Joan [Bergin] &
Gabriel [O’Brien, wardrobe manager] had made Elspeth &
Frances dolls with much loving care. They were presented – all
tears and hooting laughter in the kitchen set.
6 December
Arlene looking beautiful in her red & gold tablecloth but it
must be way below freezing outside. Ellie says ‘But if the
heaters go on we won’t see the smoke on her breath.’
9.35 Last shot on Arlene. Last shot on film, followed by 30
seconds silence for ‘atmosphere’. Interesting 30 seconds that. A
moment for what the hell was that? Then hugs, champagne –
all in freezing cold, as Arlene glided through the studio set in a
towel.

7 December
Emma called. I said ‘You should direct’, she said ‘We have to
grow up a bit first.’ Stamina – that’s what you need most.
Wrap party . . . Great to see Douglas Murphy and Sean
Biggerstaff18 again. Not so great being cornered just when you
would wish to be free. But on time and on budget. Bed at
4.30am. It’s what that book says – Rima calms me down.

11 December
To Dr Gaynor to reassure myself I do not have frostbite (two
toes refusing to un-numb).
7pm To Nicole Farhi’s Christmas party . . . David Hare has
not so much softened as melted with the marriage and now the
lucky sod is off to Peru & Colombia for Christmas.

30 December
Mum is in hospital again.

31 December
Belinda & Hugh for New Year’s eve supper. Right & proper –
old friends on the move. Their last celebration in this house as
our neighbours . . . And Lily more and more the growing girl
and problem child. Lovely food. Good talk. Friends.
1
Maxim de Winter
2
English actor (1965–)
3
English actor (1933–2012)
4
An old friend
5
Newspaper publisher (1932–2014)
6
McAnuff had directed this adaptation of the novel by Balzac.
7
Best Film was won by Braveheart, Best Actress was Susan Sarandon for Dead Man
Walking, Best Director was Mel Gibson for Braveheart.
8
English actor (1952–2008)
9
Virginia Bottomley, (1948–), then Secretary of State for National Heritage
10
British magician (1948–)
11
Scottish actor (1944–1995)
12
English playwright (1947–)
13
Sean Mathias, Welsh theatre director (1956–)
14
A.R. was awarded an Emmy as the best actor in a miniseries for his title role in
Rasputin.
15
Scottish actor who played Sam
16
St Andrews location for the 1981 film Chariots of Fire
17
Scottish actor Gary Hollywood (1979–), who played Alex
18
Scottish actor (1983–)
 1997
LOS ANGELES, GOLDEN GLOBES – HOME OFFICE
PROTEST – LEICESTER – DEATH OF A.R.’S MOTHER
– SCREEN ACTORS GUILD AWARD – ANTHONY
MINGHELLA – BAFTA – PETER MANDELSON –
MICHAEL KAMEN – VENICE – RUBY WAX – AUNTIE
ELSIE – ROME – VENICE – PRINCESS DIANA – ROD
STEIGER – BOSTON – CAMDEN, MAINE – DARK
HARBOR – DAVID MAMET – WYOMING – NEW
YORK – EDNA O’BRIEN

1 January
A new year starts not in the Caribbean – lying in bed,
wandering about the flat, opening cupboard doors, finding
moth holes in a suit.
Half my brain shuffles the deck of the film [The Winter
Guest] – keeping it fluid in my head, at least.

4 January
1.45 train to Leicester and the General Hospital. Mum fast
asleep as we walked into the ward. Nudged her gently awake,
surrounded her with chocolates and biscuits, watched her
doing some embroidery, listened to the cries of the old woman
down the ward as she was changed (?) moved (?) whatever
happens behind the curtains – ‘NO! NO! Mama! Mama!’
Otherwise a peaceful time – she seems calm and rosy.

6 January
6.30 The English Patient . . . Bravo, Ant. May you win
everything with this huge achievement.

7 January
7.30 A Doll’s House.
 From the second she catherine-wheeled on stage Janet
McTeer1 was giving one of the finest performances I have ever
seen. Not a generalised second, not a dishonest moment,
always listening, always responding. Glorious work.

17 January
12 BA flight to Los Angeles. Watched Brassed Off and Lone Star.
Poles apart.

19 January
3pm Car to Judy, then to pick up Louise and on to the Golden
Globes. Ian McK. won, we won, I won . . .! . . .! Flash lights,
speeches, uneaten food, Stephen Rea, Brenda Blethyn, seeing
Anthony win best film – Hollywood hoopla.
Some dark rooms or tents filled with flowers and people
standing about. Met Geoffrey Rush and his wife2 who seem
tense and a bit complicated. I think she hates her role as side-
dish.

23 January
Somewhere around 12 – back home.
The rest of the day, having started The Road Less Travelled on
the plane, watching myself not ‘delaying gratification’ as usual.
Not that there’s much gratifying to delay – the fridge is empty.
But I managed to find enough enjoyable jobs to do which
avoid sitting down and dealing with mail and scripts.
The book is right – do the difficult stuff first, otherwise you
waste so much time avoiding it.
1am finds me answering mail.

24 January
A screening [of The Winter Guest] at 1pm. Some good some
not. Still a worrying tendency to miss the emotional undertow.
Or is that just personal taste?
30 January
One of those big days when you feel alternately very grown-up
and small boy in the corner of a room full of adults.
9am To Channel 4 . . . and the first screening for the money
people. We watch mostly in silence (I of course imagining
proper colour, music, etc. and etc.). Some quiet laughter
floating up from the grey suede seats. Afterwards a really
dangerous silence in the elevator. ‘Really powerful,’ says Sharon
H. Bless her. In the office I break it – ‘So say anything you
like.’ So he did.3 All day spent pulling shards of glass from my
insides, but of course it was the best thing. Now the adventure
begins. Be reckless, find the film.

31 January
4.30 The Home Office to join Chris M., Harold Pinter, Denis
L[awson] & Sheila G[ish], Richard W., Frankie de la T.4 and
friends to protest at the continued imprisonment of the
political refugees in Rochester Jail – all on hunger strike.
Eventually some photographers straggled along. We froze.
Michael Howard flipped through his rollerdesk.

8 February
To Leicester. Mum surrounded by drips and her face covered
with an oxygen mask.

9 February
The morning in the hotel reading the papers cover to cover.
To the hospital. Michael, Sheila, David & Chris there. Rima
arrived later.
Mum convinced that the doctor is deliberately mistreating
her and the other patients because ‘he wants to be leader of the
Tories’ and knows of Rima’s political ambitions . . . It’s funny,
but very distressing to think this is all swimming around in her
head, making her unhappy.
10 February
Mum had clearly had a bad night . . . The doctor holds out
little hope, but this amazing spirit blazes away inside the dizzy
spells and straining breaths.

11 February
To the hospital.
Writing retrospectively during all this is pretty impossible.
The highs, lows, noise, quiet all create an endless graph that
takes no notice of diary dividing lines.
Back to London.

12 February
8pm Train to Leicester.
Spending the night at the hospital flats after hanging around
the deserted cafeteria. They’re holding down a male patient in
Ward 20 who screams non-stop that he’s being murdered. So
there we are, brothers, sister together in what felt like
Czechoslovakia.

13 February
Mum is now having very peaceful, watchful times, but
interspersed more frequently with struggling for breath. The
doctor talks of administering Diamorphine. And does so.
Which started a new scenario. Sleep, fluttering eyelids, faraway
gazes.
Lunchtime to the local shopping precinct (very Poliakoff,
windswept, depressing) to find some clean underwear & socks.
Eventually common sense sends us to Gyngell’s for
something to eat. It’s part of Premier Lodge Hotels – my feet
walk automatically to Reception and book us all in. Hot
showers, towels, TV.
After supper and back to the Hospital . . . As we arrive Mum
wakes but it’s from a Diamorphine sleep. She’s gazing at the
ceiling – something fascinating up there beyond the veiled eyes.
It’s the deepest kind of heartbreak to watch.

14 February
Sheila’s birthday – Mum asks for a photo of all of us – Polaroid
the only word to spring to mind. Some value from yesterday’s
lunchtime trip – a Dixon’s. Bought a Polaroid, took the
photos, put them in plastic frames, propped them up on the
cabinet after Mum watched them developing. Sheila gets the
Polaroid camera as a birthday gift. Writing this in the welcome
peace of the lunchtime sleep break. Lights out, curtain drawn,
only the insistent buzz & burr of the nebulisers and oxygen
masks around the ward. Mum’s eyes open & close, her chest
rises and falls – all of it inventing a rhythm moment by
moment.
Supper at Gyngell’s – Valentine’s night in the
restaurant/bar/children’s play area/whatever. This extraordinary
concoction only the English could dream up. From a distance
the saxophone and vocals with digital back-up make ‘Lady In
Red’ merge seamlessly with Kenny G. as breaded this or tikka
that hits the table.

15 February
Breakfast is a more civilised affair. A few people, the sun on the
grass outside, coffee, eggs & toast. Unspoilable. Even with the
won’t-go-away press nonsense about playing Dr Who.
A pattern is emerging. A little chat, some smiles, some
vacant looks; we sit, read, go into the day-room, have a coffee,
talk to the nurses, sit some more. Mum is peaceful sometimes,
agitated at others. She is given nebulisers, and more injections.
Through it all, moments of such sweetness shaft through.
Yesterday’s smile inhabiting the corners of her eyes and mouth.
Today, again, she looks around and counts the four of us sitting
there. Her kids. What she said. But today she is talking very
little. She counts, and looks, and sleeps.

16 February
Writing in retrospect.
Rima and I both sleepless.
At 7.15 there is a knock at the door – from Michael’s voice
(or maybe it is from the knock) I knew that Mum had gone.
Michael just capsized into the room, desolate that she had died
without us. But it could have happened while we were having
a cup of tea, in a corridor, turned away for a second . . . But of
course nothing takes away that shaft of guilt. We all pull
ourselves together and drive to the hospital, where Joyce the
nurse is waiting. It was as she turned away for a moment. Mum
snatched her space. I have tried to rehearse the inside of my
head for months now and as I write this I don’t know how
much I have accepted, but walking behind those closed curtains
and seeing her yellowish face and still, still body is not
something you can ever be ready for.

17 February
11.30 Just made the train to London. This was a ride I had
rehearsed. Sitting there reading quietly as the fields flashed by.

18 February
To the funeral directors with David and Michael.
A day of trying to pull various threads into one cord –
church, cemetery, Kew, minister.
At 3pm we went to Kew – a beautiful room. Again I feel the
nerves of someone imposing my taste on a roomful of people
who probably are expecting low voices and ham sandwiches
when I’m proposing a string quartet playing Gershwin and fish
pie. It’s a beautiful day and we open the french windows onto
the lawn and walls and all will be forgiven.
Found ‘Barry Island’5 to read at the service. If you can get
through it . . .

19 February
7.30 David & I go to see Rev. John Simmonds – his house is a
perfect Methodist vicar’s set. Talk about Mum and visit the
new Rivercourt Church – unrecognisable really. Scenes of one’s
youth cannot come flooding back as it has all changed. Or
been given a makeover more accurately.

20 February
1.30 Lunch at the Atlantic. I just listen to it all. Oscar chat.
Like there will be next year.

23 February
The roses which Lindsay & Hilton sent have given such
pleasure. The mixture of colours and smells are so beguiling
you find yourself trying to commit every shade & congruence
to memory.
PS: Phone message to say I won the SAG award.6 That’s
from actors.

25 February
2pm To Kenyon [funeral directors] in Rochester Row via the
church opposite. Which was a surprise pleasure with its piped
music.
Mum looked fine in her dress. Complete and OK with the
world.

26 February
Mum’s funeral.
Which should or might be two dark and heavy words. In
fact it was a day of flowers and lightness, shafts of sunshine
hitting the lawns, Rivercourt filled with daffodils.
Much thanks to Rev. John Simmonds, whose light but
focused touch meant that everyone knew why they were there.
It was absolutely about Her, for Her, her picture on the table
at Kew, Porter, Gershwin sidling forth from the string quartet.
In the end, a real celebration – with people going home
clutching flowers and in a way, happy.
You were honoured, Mum. With Love.

19 March
11.30 David Aukin & Allon Reich [film producer] from
Channel 4. They know they’re walking on eggs, but actually
we make a few great strides. And I make a few more cuts . . .

20 March
Looping with Emma & Phyllida – some nightmare stuff for
both of them which they buckle down to with almost
unfailingly good humour. I don’t know how they do it . . . I
remember some past tantrums in the studio – microphones
hitting the deck etc.
8.15 → Belinda & Hugh w. Ruby. Too much wine. Again.
And a run round some familiar houses. But these are friends I
love so it doesn’t matter – and sometimes real comic energy is
released. Rare and wonderful.

24 March
2am Watching the Oscars.
Who’s there. Who’s not. Who wins. Who should. Who
shouldn’t.
And what did they wear?
But Bravo Ant, Saul, Walter.7

26 March
7pm King Lear, NT.
Richard Eyre all over the place again. No idea what he was
aiming at. Ian Holm wonderful in the detailed, small stuff but
too aware of the mountains others have climbed instead of
scaling his own slopes.

4 April
2.30 Screening.
Late start. Lousy sound. The music like the afterthoughts of
a coke-head. The Finance sit there like M. Rushmore. An
Absolute Hell.

7 April
Somehow things seem to pull themselves together (in the
cutting room sense). Why is it taking until now to find
freedom with this film? The feeling is of having possessed it
entirely and of now letting go. Something like learning to yoyo.

9 April
Long call from Anthony Minghella. He’s back in the Real
World of car insurance. And spends time strengthening my
resolve.
Later sorting through fan mail – a letter from a woman who
has watched S&S and wants to know if in England we still bow
to each other on entering a room.

12 April
Mezzo for lunch.
Andrew (from Rasputin) is spotted across the restaurant floor.
After waving, his companion in leather cap smiles, comes over,
and at the last minute I realise it’s Christian Slater – which
means that Radha B.8 is there. As they leave she ignores me in
such an overt way, I was actually shocked.

13 April
To 175 Old Oak Common Lane.9 David, Michael, Chris and I
start opening drawers, looking at photographs, discarding,
keeping. Nothing which retained any memory had been
thrown away. Old light bulbs, ribbon from presents, all the
birth certificates. A life made tangible wherever you turned.
Mum’s certificate for her piano exams tucked in amongst some
underwear; my old drama group photos under the stairs.
Incredibly touching things like the letter to Kevin Costner’s
wife with its simple statement of loneliness. We sat in the
garden and had lunch together. These are things to hang on to.

15 April
Much more work needed on the music.

18 April
8.30 Roger Graef ’s10 birthday party.
A conversational pizza. Helena Kennedy & Iain Hutchison,
Janet Suzman, Peter Eyre,11 BBC people, newspaper people,
Eve Arnold,12 etc, etc. Very ‘Eve of Blair/Stalin on the
Throne’ – so different from ’92. If the Tories win no one will
be depressed this time, just resigned or on a plane.

25 April
2.30 RADA Council. Attenborough, as always, astonishingly in
command of the facts. We all toddle behind in his wake.

27 April
5pm Royal Albert Hall – w. Tara.
Bettina Jonic singing Weill, Heine, Brecht. Bettina is her
own biggest fan – and rightly so. Rare to watch a real artist like
this. You don’t have to speak fluent German to sense the
undertow of exile & alienation.

29 April
6.15 Car to the Albert Hall for BAFTA.
Saw Kate W. – couldn’t kiss her or her makeup would be
ruined; stood behind Diana Ross to present award – couldn’t
stand too close or would have been surfing on the train of her
dress. Gave award to Anthony M. . . . Sat at table w. Ken Loach
who showed how to stand up for royalty without seeming
to . . .

30 April
8.30 Columbia TriStar – Mike Newell’s screening of Donnie
Brasco. Brilliantly directed and shot and acted. Mike enjoying
himself hugely.

1 May
Election Day. The sun blazes.
10.30 To Helena K. & Iain.
And the party begins. All I can think as the seats mount is
‘Someone say thanks to Neil Kinnock.’ All the time people
cheering, laughing and some crying. Endless choruses of ‘I
can’t believe it.’13

2 May
The Sunniest Day.
Sent flowers to Neil, Barbara Follett & Peter Mandelson. All
we can think of is this day 5 years ago. Everything so different.
Finally a feeling of the country breathing. Long may it last.
7pm Peter M. calls by to say thank you for the flowers. Says
he burst into tears when he saw them. I asked him how he
feels. ‘Weird.’

15 May
12 Michael Kamen.
Thank God Scott came over in the afternoon to referee.
This is easily the toughest relationship on the film. Michael is
kissed with genius but it is like trapping a butterfly. Wayward,
unfocused, utterly specific, instinctive by turns. Clinging on to
some calm and aided by Scott’s steering, we get some
wonderful results and somewhere in there Michael enjoys it.
On the way home, I realise I’m dragging through uncharted
waters. It is not customary working like this . . . mea culpa.

16 May
8am pick-up → Luton Airport → Venice.
 Paul Allen’s14 Extravaganza.

17 May
6am While I can still remember. On the flight here Bryan
Ferry, Mimi Rogers,15 Dave Stewart, Geena Davis, Sydney
Pollack, Jerry Hall, Siobhan Fahey16 – an extraordinary
weekend begins. How could I ever have thought of not
coming? It’s not just the biggest name drop ever (last night the
above joined by Robin Williams, Barbara Hershey, Michael
Keaton, Monica Seles, John McEnroe, Albert Brooks,17 Jim
Brooks,18 Carrie Fisher, Ruby, Fran Leibowitz, Michael &
Sandra K., etc., etc., etc.), but writing this at 6am on the
balcony of the Londra Palace Hotel looking at the length of the
Grand Canal as it is swept gently into life . . . it is also a
weekend stuffed with indelible pictures. Last night at the
Scuola Grande San Rocco, Tiepolos & Tinterettos everywhere,
Albinoni and Vivaldi underneath. Red velvet & Harry’s Bar.

17 May
7.30 Champagne is delivered to the room as we chase a bit to
get ready – and it begins. To the lobby and out to the gondolas
(more champagne on ice). The convoy glides off to the Palazzo
where trumpeters, a fire-eater and dancer greet every arrival.
Names announced at the door, Paul Allen & Monica Seles
greet us, everyone looking glorious masked & feathered.
Upstairs dinner goes on and on, opera is sung, Santana plays a
floor higher with Dave Stewart, Noel Redding,19 John
McEnroe & Paul A. & Harry Shearer20 as backing group.
Later the Piano Bar. Patti Smith sings to me.

18 May
12 Bags downstairs and a boat to Cipriani for brunch. John &
Di Carling [old friends] pop up in the lobby – it’s her birthday.
Very levelling in the circumstances – as in Peter Gabriel, Trudie
& Sting, Eric Idle, David Geffen, Barry Diller,21 Laurence
Fishburne, Penny Marshall, Terry George [nightclub owner],
Maggie Renzi22 and on and on. Everyone with a specific
image to hang on to.
4.30 Into a boat → Aeroporto for the flight to Nice and
London.

21 May
A trip to the dry cleaner’s is good for clearing the brain.

6 June
Michael’s music all over the place in tone, warmth, clarity etc.
We will have to re-record.

23 June
11ish To Whitfield Recording Studios for another day of teeth
pulling with Michael & Steve.

2 July
12ish Ruby comes for script inspiration – Jennifer Saunders is
not coming up with the goods fast enough. Rubes, impatient
as ever for RESULTS, understanding nothing as ever of
PROCESS is already flipping through the metaphorical
writers’ version of Spotlight.

3 July
2.30 to Video City to collect and then deliver a TV to Arwen
Holm in St Mary’s Hospital. She was in a side room having her
hair done – lying covered in plastic with newly blackened hair.
The whole process requiring great invention by the hairdresser
who talks cheerily of her work in hospital morgues. ‘I like it –
they can’t answer back.’

6 July
Long phone call with Ruby. There is so much history here I
think we should just absorb that and get on with it. Ruby
seems to want to analyse. I don’t think that will go anywhere
but inwards.
10 July
On the way to find a taxi, bump into a guy handing out
promotional cards – they go flying, he looks at me with such
violence and says ‘pick them up’. Something in me – for once
– didn’t argue. Agree how clumsy I was but that it wasn’t
deliberate and walked quietly away. How things change. I know
I was a second away from real hard-core assault.

14 July
7pm Festival Hall for Guardian’s summer party. Absolutely
fascinating. Degrees of leglessness unknown other than to
journalists.

29 July
To 11 Downing Street and Gordon Brown, Chris Smith23 and
Tom Clarke’s24 homage to the film industry. Talk about the
usual suspects . . . At one glorious moment we were taken on a
scuttling tour of No. 10 and No. 11 – the Cabinet Office,
Dining Room etc. before the gaff was blown and we scurried
off.

3 August
3 To see Arwen at St Mary’s.

4 August
A day when events, phone-calls frustrations and unalloyed
sadnesses & pleasures trip over each other . . . as we try to sort
out a holiday and checking the sub-titles. David eventually gets
through to tell me that Auntie Elsie died this morning. No
point now in writing anything for yesterday’s entry – it would
seem more like foreboding. But I did sense something was
worryingly wrong.

5 August
7pm Chelsea Cinema – Mr Bean.
 Sit in (doubtless) wrong seats with Mel Smith & Rowan
Atkinson behind us, so laughs are forced in order to send OK
messages backwards. Ate whole packet of M&Ms.

13 August
Talked to Peter Mandelson about being beleaguered. He
sounds genuinely depressed, and it has been an onslaught in the
press. I talk of heat & kitchens but didn’t get round to the fact
that he should recognise how he brings it on himself to a large
degree.

14 August
7.55 Flight to Rome.
11.20 Claudio collects us and drives us calmly and swiftly to
Todi.
8.30 Dinner at the hotel. Eventually. It only took him ½ hr
to bring the menus and ½ hr to serve some food.

15 August
Drive to Assisi.
Lunch by nose-following, down some steps, along an
alleyway . . .
After lunch to San Francisco and the line of glorious Giotto
frescoes on the life of St Francis.

20 August
Rome.
We clambered out of bed and made it to the Sistine Chapel
queue at 8.30am. It already wound around the block for 150
yards. But getting in was fairly painless . . . I wish I had the
nerve to just lie on the floor and look at it or [on] some trolley
on wheels, maybe much as Michelangelo did. Stroll out feeling
like a great big human being.
3.40 → London.
26 August
9.30 Alastair Morris for Winter Guest photo shoot. He’s being
paid a shitload for 3 hours’ work that Emma doesn’t really want
to do. She sees the artwork (current) and points straight to the
image I prefer of the 2 of them. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
What indeed. Alastair is charming, efficient and as I thought
the wrong photographer for something which needs to be fresh
and full of subtle attitudes. He is classical and controlled. Short
of having a clause in the contract I don’t know what to do.

27 August
8.45 pick-up to Heathrow. Find Phyllida & Emma. Find plane
to Venice . . . Happy flight, happy boat trip to Gritti Palace.
9pm Taxi to Danieli. Emma is a bit will-she, won’t-she
today. A bit of gentle persuasion gets her on to the water taxi
and off to Ed & Kevin’s dinner party.

28 August
a.m. at the Hotel des Bains – manage not to recognise Jane
Campion as she says hello. At first think it’s Streep with a
haircut but think, no she’s in Ireland – who is it? The chair of
the jury, no less.
1pm Lunch around the pool of the Hotel des Bains. Arlene,
boys, parents . . . Jane Campion . . .
8.30–9 Another walk to a scaffold. The evening in a way
wrecked by Ruth Vitale [film producer] telling me of mixed
reviews & Ed thinking only of the marketing meetings.
The film is milky and the sound all over the place – I watch
it in total, helpless capitulation.
At the end of the evening I am filled with something
unnameable but dark. Fine Line [production company] are
already unsure of what to do with their eyes – a common
attitude of non-culpability is asserting itself. Sometimes I truly
hate this business.
29 August
Very sleepless. The deepest sadness, now depression, settling
way down low in the pit of everywhere. Elastoplast – whatever,
needed to drag it all up and out for an afternoon of interviews.
First an 11am chat with Judy & Patrick. Something has to be
said about Holy Man. How much more work can I turn down?
Meanwhile mixed reviews as far as I can tell. Some of them
get it. Some of them not. Start rearranging the inside of my
head. Again.
I need months off.

30 August
Lunchtime in the Visconti Salon with the bird-filled terrace
outside and Venice beyond that. It all seems like a ludicrous
backdrop to the endless questions and camera-clicking. How
alarming to take Venice for granted.
Home to news that Mary Selway25 is in hospital having put
her nearly new hip out. A horrible story of agonising pain and
delays. I feel guilty – I persuaded her to come.

31 August
The unnameable prevailing still, slow sadness is given an
absolute shocking identity when Sean and his family arrive for
breakfast and tell me that Princess Diana is dead. For a second
or two I thought it was a word-game or strange joke. No –
here on the terrace of the Gritti Palace, glittering in the sun
and clearly one of the most beautiful places in the world, the
news is brutal and true.
Emma, Phyllida, Rima and I go to the Accademia in a daze,
but it is the best thing to do – look at the Carpaccio, the
Tintorettos, Veroneses. Phyllida finally caves in – you never
know with her, all smiles and all heartbreak at the same time.
The 3 of us go off to visit Mary in hospital. She’s smiling in a
body cast (once we get past Nurse Ratched thanks to Emma’s
diplomacy) and 6 seats are coming out of the plane on Monday.
 5.30 Boat → airport and private jet/cars to Country House
Hotel land.

1 September
The hotel grounds stretch away, forever England . . . Lunch at a
brilliant country pub, a breathtaking helicopter ride to
Heathrow, a car that once belonged to Queen Elizabeth is
waiting to take Rima home, Air Canada all charm.
The newspapers are thick with it. Pictures of Diana crowd
the pages; flowers carpet the streets. It is true – a light has gone
out. A legend begins.
The 4.45 becomes the 5.30 to Toronto. I hope I can handle
the next few days with something free of noise and bullshit.

2 September
Awards & screening. What simple words for such a major
Horror Show. Arriving, there was already something chaotic in
the air. Then, the shunting & shoving started. Such rudeness by
the festival director (echoed by chatting to Rod Steiger in the
wings) and a lesson in how not to show this film – discord,
unsettled audience, noise.

3 September
Spoke to Ruby – eloquent as ever about Diana.
A photo that is beyond horror in Le Devoir. → 9.45 Los
Angeles.
Talk to Steiger on the plane. Or rather, listen. And why not?
I wish I had a tape recorder. He talks much of Brando and of
having met him in a Chinese restaurant in Montreal for the
first time in 44 years. Of Brando saying to Val Kilmer ‘I don’t
like your voice, I don’t like your face, I don’t like your acting, I
don’t like you . . .’ He talks of live TV and the man in the
aeroplane scene who forgot his lines and came out with ‘This is
my stop I get out here.’ At 35,000 ft. of the studio executive
who said ‘Can you do a Southern accent?’ (Heat of the Night –
Academy Award). A reservoir.

4 September
Read Holy Man again – it’s an obvious NO. Hand another job,
another pile of cash to another actor. Where is the sense in all
of this?? Variety review is apparently ‘GREEEAT’. Grudging
would be my word.

5 September
At Roland Joffé & Susi’s beautiful Bel Air house, we settled
down to watch Diana’s funeral. From about 11pm–5am we
hardly spoke. It is not just hindsight which suggests we were
watching something extraordinary. The images compelled real
focus as they happened. The single toll of the bell every
minute; the absolute involvement of the people across sex, age
and colour made me watch it in such a highly concentrated
way – Remember this. Remember this. By the time Charles
Spencer spoke we were watching history shift and stir and the
future may have reshaped itself. King William at 25 with his
father tucked away at Highgrove deadheading the roses? Quite
spectacularly moving the whole thing – even Elton John got
away with it. The applause and flower-throwing adding
impromptu to detail. People were left standing around outside
the Abbey, the Palace not wanting to let go. Wonderful that
someone so laughingly direct could gather these souls up like
this.

7 September
The Mark Hotel and then to dinner. Coco Pazzo – horrible
East Side, deadly swank. And Paula Poundstone [stand-up
comedian] comes over from a Billy Joel type table to enquire as
to who I am . . . Breathtaking rudeness but then later the
manager slides by to say she’s paid our bill.

9 September
To Boston and a day of interviews. OK apart from a depressing
insistence on talking about Die Hard. I can see the twisted,
mangled tag lines – Die Hard Softy.

19 September
Dinner with Liam & Natasha and John Cleese, Ewan
McGregor & Eve [his wife], George Lucas & Mia, and
Natasha’s sister Catherine. Mr McG. is self-involved to a jaw-
dropping degree but like a child, so it’s somehow not repellent.
But how will these people grow into anything at 35 or 40? It is
scary how much they have to trade on a light-voiced, light-
hearted, light-headed 20-something.

22 September
8 To Orsino w. Michelle Guish for dinner with Lindsay Doran,
Emma, Greg, Kate W., Imogen S., Emma J., Pat Doyle26 and
eventually, Trevor Nunn. Autograph hunters’ fantasy – even
the waiter was auditioning. Much talk of who doing what, but
as ever, the best bit was Pat and his stories. His royal family
talks could go on a loop tape and I’d be happy. Trevor looks at
him slightly bemused – how could someone be this talented
and I don’t know who he is?

24 September
7.30am Missed the alarm, missed the car maybe. Phone calls,
new car, new time. Wet clothes in dryer. Rethink.
Repack . . . Forgot the Gatwick monorail and endlessness of it
all. Made the plane with 10 mins to go . . . Watched Trees
Lounge, Steve Buscemi’s beautiful film. Complete re-think on
the in-it-and-direct question although it has such a central
quietness you forget anybody is acting or directing something.
V. inspiring.

28 September
[Camden, Maine, re: Dark Harbor]
 4pm Everyone comes over to read, eat, drink, hang. Some
fittings. The reading is a strange, disembodied experience and I
lose all connection to the script and have to lie like mad to
Norman Reedus27 who wonders ½ way through if it’s a good
idea. He reads beautifully – and X.M. will work fine. As I said
yesterday it’s Polly28 and I who have to do the coal-mining.

29 September
Dark Harbor – First Day. Slipping and sliding. In the rain. Inside
the head. Adam [Coleman Howard, director] is all applause,
noise and enthusiasm. Probably mistakes my quietness for
disapproval, but standing in the pouring rain needs some
stillness to bear. Long lunchtime chat with N., who has had a
life. Tennis champ, living on an Indian reservation, Tokyo,
Spain & Tooting Bec. I’m dazzled by his openness. He could
achieve anything with it. How on earth does LA understand
him? Polly is quietly heroic all day too. How can I love these
two people so quickly? The script still needs vacuuming. The
bedroom needs heating.

4 October
Standing in a forest being sprayed with lukewarm water so that
pyjamas and dressing gown are soaking. In the cold morning
air. And because my mind is not in the right place – although
in some ways it is, of course – I can’t get properly into the
scene. Big déjà vu, too, with smoke-guns and mist and
watching the DP’s29 nonplussedness as it all vanishes before it
has settled. The scene is then played to the background of what
seems like a war film.

5 October
Raining, raining, raining – especially in my
head . . . Eventually, see Tony Blair’s conference speech. All
NEW, MODERN, REFORMED, CHANGED, like a soap
powder ad. It was full of good things but repetitive and
straining for sincerity. He has it in bunkerloads but when
unmatched by anger or real indignation, he can appear to be
Head Boy rather than Prime Minister. You slightly want to pat
his head rather than applaud.

6 October
Duncan Heath arrives somewhat improbably for lunch from
New York–Boston–Portland on his way home. Insane, really,
but touching. We talk about The Confessions which it seems I
am not doing. Can’t say I’m that worried – it should be a New
York Jew. But what is happening inside my head – recklessness?
carelessness? Or some new, better stuff? Where I don’t
obsess . . .
A truth, of course, is that when I am preoccupied with one
individual, everything else seems secondary. Idiotic.

7 October
Sitting in the Rotunda all morning – the lunch scene. Joined
by the fly population of Maine.
Later the Suncream Scene. Pretending to know how to work
a laptop.

10 October
Out on the dock and screaming around the bay in the
motorboat. Authentic thrills. And nearly spills, as we hit the
wake of the camera boat. But all in glorious slowly-settling
sunshine (after a morning sailing in the mist) until the boat hit
a twig, complained and stopped. Ignominy is a rope towing us
into Camden Harbor. Until 10pm I wait to do an eventually
aborted shot.

11 October
And now the tiredness from Toronto plus delayed action from
the boat is really kicking in and as the day progresses it’s an ugly
tiredness which has everyone asking if I’m OK, and I can feel
the authentic acting animal swishing its tail.
Not healthy, not productive but it isolates a problem –
namely that isolation of playing scenes when you & the person
you are in love with have no scenes between the two of you to
refer to. Everything is supposition. This makes the brain very
insecure and the spirit undernourished.
Lindsay & Margaret are there on return. Bless them, they
have cooked duck & chocolate soufflé and there’s some great
red wine. After they go to bed, I went to Waterworks at
midnight. A wise move – dancing and talking & singing and
laughing – antidote to much if not all.

13 October
The Golf Scene. Pulling some teeth. Frustrations.
Manoeuvrings. Adam is full of perceptions and full of control
mechanisms. Do I see myself? Is that what is putting a band
around my brain by 5pm? Something weird is going on and it
needs to be lanced. Thank goodness for Polly, the
straightforward, giving girl who called – was anyone tapping
that call?

16 October
Writing this and slow-churning. On the boat all day, playing a
sleepy mist scene to the sound of fog-guns. Polly and I
inaudible to each other. She and Norman go in the freezing
night-time water.

17 October
One of the worst all-night-awakes of recent memory. Thank
God the day is spent inside a ’60s Mercedes with rain pouring
down the wind-screen . . . On other fronts, something less gut-
wrenching descends like a comforter. May it last.

18 October
As horrible as yesterday was, today was a stretched out pleasure.
Playing parts of Górecki’s symphony helped set up the sinner
scene, and the rest of the day Polly and I lay in a big squashy
bed pretending to be asleep. Filming bliss.
 Later to Café Miranda for supper w. Polly, and then the
inevitable Waterworks. Soo loud but the dancing sweats some of
the wine and chicken away.
Adam is like an ever-fretting, boiling-over, alka-seltzered
glass of life, love, indiscretion and openness. I can only hope all
his boundless enthusiasm is well-placed. And that the vibes
have roots.

20 October
What the fuck is all this insomnia – the pillow? the mattress?
The whole Feng Shui of it all?
Anyway – a morning at the house waiting for the eventual
2.30 call. We are in the kitchen for the first morning-after
scene – cigarette magic trick.
And after driving home, laughing, a kiss is returned.

21 October
The dreaded Scene 77. Thirteen pages of text, noise, small
room and increasing heartache. Somehow, there are some takes
we can use.

22 October
The day of all the reverses throws me into a cocoon of silence.
I watch myself in this pointless activity. It does have a huge
effect on people – they are confused, I am confused. All the
time the ache gets bigger. At this point I don’t know how to
deal with it. Punishment comes with the fight – cuts and
bruises everywhere. I can see where the word ‘difficult’ comes
from. Why is this destructive side so unstoppable, feeding so
voraciously on itself, victor in absolutely nothing. It’s just a film.

25 October
Nasty, cold day on the beach, a hastily rehearsed scene throws
up resentments about divide and rule techniques. Water round
Walt’s30 ankles. Déjà vu.
 Later, at . . . dinner with Adam, Jeff [Roda, producer] . . .
It’s like a spider’s web and after dancing till midnight, one of
those all-back-to-Room-138 escapades which ended with
lights out and pile of bodies on the bed. I crept away later than
I should have . . .

26 October
11 Headache. Heartache.

27 October
A day in the rain. Only more so. Breeds temperament. Why
can’t I just get on with it? Polly is amazing in that way. And I’m
not even the wettest . . .

29 October
In the living room with a cardboard box and two live lobsters,
elastic bands round their claws, accusing eyes peering up.
Later in the day an exit on to the porch means a sudden
collision with the bell that hangs (way too low) from the
ceiling. 20 mins later we’re on our way to Pen Bay Hospital
with a cut across the nose and an ice pack. And it’s all true – 20
mins more of form-filling and office work before a glimpse of a
nurse or a doctor. But then they are fine and felicitous,
guarding against concussion, dizziness etc., etc., etc.

30 October
Very difficult to describe in coded form except to say various
takes of Scene 105. Once the hair and costume had been
decided we basically got on with it. At times the temptation
was to stop in the middle and just say Who’s kidding who here
– this is mutual isn’t it? Was it? Wasn’t it? Will I ever know.31

1 November
Writing this as the wind attacks the house, having run away
from the wrap party. I’m not sure who is angry at who – I
certainly feel a little mislaid . . .
 The scene today was tough. Mostly just arriving at it. Adam’s
stubbornness is like treacle on the stairs, a roadblock. All I want
is some narrative not endless rationales.
We get there. And it’s one of those scenes the crew describes
as ‘amazing’.
But now I’m tired of the cold shouldering mixed up with
the kiss on the cheek. Of course, it’s all about my needs. But,
fuck it, I’ve given this film a ton-load.

2 November
Clearing up. Getting out. Driving off.
7.30 Dinner at Reidy’s for cast and crew. A happy necessary
time. Still can’t get it right, though. Somewhere in my speech
the word love is mentioned. Later, hands are held, but more
misconnections. I think at this point I have to give up. Dizzy.

3 November
The last day. Last shots. Norman disappears to the airport – his
black eye still in place. Had to bang on his door & head
massage him on to the set. I go on walking into buildings, from
buildings & cabs, along streets, up stairs until ‘that’s a wrap’. All
kinds of mixed feelings, as ever, only this time so on the line,
on the edge.

13 November
[To LA for the filming of further scenes for Dark Harbor]
The day the rain came. The beginning of El Niño?
Eventually we start on the car crash stuff in the middle of this
Mexican district. The telegraph wires have several pairs of
sneakers hanging from them. Apparently this means drugs are
obtainable in this area – one shoe for dope, two for crack etc.

14 November
Sitting in the car on the low-loader all morning. Silly but
funny and a very good humour pervades. Until the teamsters
decide to strike . . .

22 November
Lunchtime around the pool with Greg & Em.
We screened Winter Guest at CAA. Pretty damn scary and
thank you Fine Line for a shitty print, out of date grade and no
song. But they liked it (they really liked it) and we sailed on to
Goldfingers. Noisy, small, dark, two girls in gold paint, not
enough food but everyone danced and drank till 2.30 . . .
Collapse.

4 December
3pm and I know I’ve just been talking to National
Enquirer/News of the World not the Guardian. Horrendous,
intrusive, entirely centred on sex life. It gets worse as I think
about it afterwards.

6 December
2 David & Chris, R. and I go to the cemetery. Mum’s birthday
today. We planted some bulbs and primroses and hung a
Christmas holly wreath. It looked a bit mad but pleased with
itself.
Then to Nan & Grandad’s. Some artificial flowers have crept
on to the earth. Awful. After we drove to Auntie D. & Uncle
V. for tea and fruitcake. And photos of the 50th party.

7 December
Jean Anderson’s32 90th birthday party. She’s a lesson – still
wondering about the next job, still betting on the horses. Miss
out on lunch, though; the car to Heathrow is there at 1.30pm.

8 December
The phone rings and a voice says ‘This is David Mamet’, and
then I spend ten minutes telling him why I probably won’t do
The Winslow Boy.33
16 December
3.45 Today Show – Jill Rappaport. God, what a lot of hair.

17 December
1pm Lunch Trattoria Dell’Arte. Peter Travers [film critic]. Fun.
He’s very focused and generous and I could feel the journalist
in the gossipy questions slipped in between the professional
concerns. Laura Dern tucked in a booth on the way out
helpfully calls WG ‘a masterpiece’.
8 WG screening – Ken’s34 speech curled my toes –
references to no one earning more than $150,000 . . .

19 December
8.15 Dinner at Erica Jong’s . . . A roomful of very witty and
probably vulgar people being rather polite all evening.

21 December
8.15 Good Will Hunting.
Ultimately a bit of a let down. Matt Damon is a really fine
actor, however. But the film feels as if it is looking for a sense
of purpose, or that it has too many. And Robin Williams is too
sweet from the word go.

25 December
Christmas Day in Wyoming [with Judy Hoflund]. Coming
downstairs to people hidden behind flying wrapping paper,
mounds of Barbie and fluorescent plastic. These girls so spoiled
the word has no meaning. Later in the day Rosemary stands in
the middle of it all wanting ‘something to do’. Charlotte’s main
dream had always been ‘a lollipop’.
6.30 Dinner’s on the table. Reto [the cook] and I negotiating
our way around Judy’s obsession with oven temperature. She
had promised us a wonderful cook and then wouldn’t let him
do it. When it does all magically arrive on plates it is delicious,
original and Reto is exhausted.
 Later – watching Wings of the Dove. I have only a question
mark as a response. Who are these people? What product are
they advertising?

26 December
To Calico for a family meal. Reto had been ready to cook but I
don’t think Judy can stand the competition. Crazy, really – is
she checking the restaurant kitchens? No. What does she give
the girls for breakfast? Chemically flavoured & coloured
‘cereal’? Coffeemate. Back home watching Kennedy Center
Awards. Dylan in a black suit & ribbons. What next as he sits
next to Charlton Heston . . .?

27 December
To New York.
Exodus with many bags . . . Jackson Hole Airport
[Wyoming] looking bleak and dramatic and snow-swept.

31 December
To Edna O’Brien at the Wyndham . . . Edna spotted Pluck U
the chicken shop on 2nd Avenue.
9 To Nick Hytner [theatre director] in the Village. He calls it
‘The House That Ho Chi Minh Built’.35 Very focusing.
Stunning views of Manhattan. A real fire. I feel like I’m in a
magazine.
11 To Susan Sarandon & Tim Robbins on 15th Street . . . A
great accordionist plays with Tim & a friend. Another stranger
sang ‘In The Midnight Hour’. Emily Watson & husband Jack,
woozy with jet lag, come with us.
1.15am Back to the Mark. During the evening the New
Yorker review of WG (it has the lingering radiance of art) was
quoted. ‘Disastrous,’ says Edna O’B.
1
English actor (1961–)
2
Jane Menelaus, Australian actor (1959–)
3
David Aukin (1942–), then Head of Film at Channel 4
4
Frances de la Tour, English actor (1944–)
5
Poem ‘Let’s Go to Barry Island’ by Idris Davies
6
For Rasputin
7
Walter Murch (1943–), American film editor who won alongside Anthony
Minghella and Saul Zaentz for The English Patient
8
Radha Blank, American filmmaker (1976–)
9
A.R.’s mum’s house
10
British documentary maker (1936–2022)
11
American actor (1942–)
12
American photojournalist (1912–2012)
13
Labour, led by Tony Blair, won in a landslide.
14
One of the founders of Microsoft
15
American actor (1956–)
16
Of Banarama, the then wife of Dave Stewart
17
American actor (1947–)
18
American director, producer and screenwriter James L. Brooks (1940–)
19
Bass guitarist with the Jimi Hendrix Experience
20
American actor (1943–)
21
American media executive (1942–)
22
American film producer (1951–)
23
Labour politician (1951–), then Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport
24
Labour politician (1941–), then Minister of State for Film and Tourism
25
English casting director (1936–2004)
26
Scottish composer of film music (1953–)
27
American actor (1969–)
28
English actor Polly Walker (1966–), A.R.’s co-star
29
Director of photography
30
Walt Lloyd, cinematographer
31
A.R. is here referring to filming with Norman Reedus.
32
English actor (1907–2001)
33
Mamet was writing and directing a screen adaptation of Terence Rattigan’s play.
34
Ken Lipper, producer
35
Because of the success of Miss Saigon
 1998
THE WINTER GUEST – LOS ANGELES – GOLDEN
GLOBES – BRUSSELS – TOKYO – ISSEY MIYAKE –
SOUTH AFRICA – PITTSBURGH, DOGMA – NEW
YORK – KEVIN SPACEY – PITTSBURGH, DOGMA –
FRANK SINATRA – LOS ANGELES – DOGMA – EDDIE
IZZARD – CONCORDE – TUSCANY – ANTONY AND
CLEOPATRA – ALASKA – HELEN MIRREN – CAPE
TOWN

1 January
Edna called to say that she was ‘never drinking again’ – or
something like that – and was currently eating a bowl of
porridge.

2 January
7pm To Kennedy and BA Sleeper Service. Not.

5 January
Phone, phone, premiere tickets, friends, donations, LA (Golden
Globes). Kath Viner1 – who talks to me slightly as if I’m
interviewing her.

8 January
7pm car to Odeon Hammersmith (w. Rima & Miranda
Richardson). Decided to tackle initial atmosphere head-on at
the microphone and refer fairly directly to shitty reviews. I
think it helped. At all events, the audience relaxed and united
and it was v. v. special atmosphere.
Later to Belinda’s. 3am and she’s talking and cooking! Pasta.

9 January
The whingeing has started. New York, here I come . . .
11 January
It has been hellish and perplexing reading some notices,
avoiding most – the complaints are beginning to be predictable.
Too theatrical, nothing new to say. All focusing on negatives.
All missing the point. Why does it not at least occur to them
that it is intentionally non-naturalistic, that the film is about
something age-old, that needs repeating.

15 January
12.30 To St George’s Hospital, Tooting, to see Pat Doyle.2 His
knowledge of what is happening to him – the morphine to
combat the pain from chemotherapy; the daily obsession with
his ‘count’ – is awesome. And still he is funny and curious.
Emma arrives in the See You Jimmy hat & we take Polaroids.
3pm Nicole Farhi shop in Bond St. Came away with a suit,
shoes and 2 things for Rima at some sort of knockdown price.
Will I wear this suit more than once?

16 January
10ish Ruby arrives, finds me in dressing gown and disappears
for croissants. Talk of awfulness in the Seychelles and the
Apocalypse Now of it with her parents.

17 January
10.30 pick-up → Heathrow → LAX.

18 January
3.30 pick-up for Golden Globes.
Madhouse of plates being whipped away half-finished lest
they still be there for the broadcast; movie stars in vastly
expensive dresses they can only wear once; name dropping on a
big scale – there and at . . . the CAA party – Gus Van Sant,
Matt Damon (I was fairly drunk, grabbing his lapels to tell him
he’s a really, no really good actor), Minnie Driver, Lauren
Bacall, Shirley MacLaine (she loved The Winter Guest, my
hero), Winona Ryder, Joan Cusack (squished in a lift – could
we work together?), Kevin Kline. Giving the Golden Globe to
Alfre Woodard3 was BEST!

22 January
11.30 Back in London.

25 January
South Bank Awards on TV – Peter Hall rightly says both
parties wonderful about the arts in opposition. He’s right. It
won’t do.
10.27 Eurostar to Brussels. This could become a habit.
Everything they say is true. Speed, soundlessness smooth as silk
and straight into the centre of Brussels. Roll on Paris.
3pm Interviews – a strange green room cum bar hidden
inside a shopping mall that has the air of an upmarket
Leningrad.

27 January
Having woken at 5am the day looms ahead full of stifled yawns
and sentences without verbs. But the morning interviews are
full of bright edgy questions. This makes the job so much
lighter, easier. Otherwise I could supply (or even fax) some
standard answers to the six ever-ready questions.
pm More stuff as they edge ever closer to Die Hard & Robin
Hood. They are like tired dogs with a very old slipper.
7pm Screening, which was ace. Even the screen covered in
Flemish & French subtitles didn’t stop it getting across the red,
red seats. Standing ovation.
Radio interview after screening. She risks garroting by
starting ‘Usually you play . . .’
10 L’Huîtrière with Neil [Kinnock] . . . Neil managing to
cover 12 topics at once but threading through it a growing
savaging of New Labour. ‘Kicked out if you don’t go to the
gym 3 times a week.’
31 January
→ Heathrow → Amsterdam.

1 February
→ Tokyo.
Weird. Getting off Amsterdam flight there’s King
Constantine and Queen Anne-Marie of Greece. Getting on
Tokyo flight, he’s there in the cabin. What are the odds?

2 February
Arrived Tokyo.
7pm Dinner w. Ninagawa . . . Always hard to unpick
through the formalities. Ninagawa always so contained, so
focused on the work. He asks me to act again & to direct a
Shakespeare.

3 February
Interviews all day. Next time – there really is no need for the
interviews to be 50 mins each. It’s just knackering. But there’s a
disarming tunnel vision about the Japanese – these quiet, small
people throwing up this enormous city, churning out product,
quietly, ceaselessly.
8.30 Dinner w. Issey Miyake . . .4 He’s charming, funny and
open. Gives me a book of Irving Penn photographs of his
clothes. Thank God I had taken the Martin Parr5 book,
although first instincts to stagger across the seas with the
Damien Hirst book would probably have been better. The
thought, however, definitely counts in these situations.

4 February
Alarming first TV interview – ‘the mother and daughter have
one expression when they go to the seaside and a different one
when they return – how did you make them change their
expressions?’
6 February
9.52 The bullet to Kyoto. Well-named this train. So fast you
travel with a gentle underflow of nausea. Inasmuch as you can
grab any image as Japan flashes by it looks like one vast 3D
electrical circuit. But it’s a beautiful train. I look forward to the
day British Rail has an electronic noticeboard, quiet audible
announcements and a ticket collector who bows to us as she
leaves the carriage.

11 February
A day of No’s.
Uneasy making. A quiet depression.
Further Academy stupidity – the total omission of any
nomination for The Ice Storm, next to nothing for Donnie Brasco,
Boogie Nights.
Don’t be too much of a downer, don’t open too early in the
year.

13 February
3pm to Hazlitt’s to find John Hurt and then to Groucho’s and
then to the Atlantic Bar.
Taxi to Habitat. Whizz round the bathroom cabinets. Taxi
home. Watching the Dark Harbor shots. V. depressing . . . 20lbs
too depressing.

24 February
9pm The Ivy w. Adam & Polly and with perfect Hello
magazine placing – Fergie chatting to Elton John with Jeremy
Irons & Sinead Cusack across the room. Adam agog . . .

4 March
6.30 Car to Heathrow for 9pm flight to South Africa.

6 March
Streaming with cold/flu/whatever. Life can become another
TV set, another hotel room however much the sun and
swimming pool say Cape Town, South Africa.

7 March
9 Screening Winter Guest.
Like watching it through the bottom of a beer glass. It is so
hard for the film to work under these circumstances. Does
music work through static? Does a painting work if you have a
headache?

8 March
10.30 Q&A on WG.
I have a feeling that people don’t know quite what to ask
since they probably didn’t like it very much. Not all of them as
I gradually discover, but enough.

9 March
9ish Die Hard. Ten years on. It still works like none of the
others. Real energy, perfect camera work, wit and style.

10 March
9 Under the Skin.
This is something very special. No wonder [the jury] gave it
the main prize at Edinburgh.

14 March
6.10 → Johannesburg / 9.15 → London.
One of Liza Key’s madcap outings. At one point everything
lost – the keys, the parking ticket, my wallet. We get lost.
Nearly. At one point she asks hopefully ‘Can anyone see an
airport?’ But the drive is spectacular – along the Indian Ocean
– and shocking – the townships and shanty towns just a crazy
collage of cardboard and metal bits and pieces called home.
Lots of washing flapping bravely in the dirt. How would you
send a letter here? 300th shack on the left of the freeway?

15 March
Ruby and the Spice Girls on TV. What? Who? Why?

17 March
11.30 → PITTSBURGH.
Watched Regeneration on the plane. Curiously uninvolved,
uninvolving. Not stealthy enough or cold enough or sharp
enough. Smooth, slow and brownish – Sunday TV. Except in
the last minutes. Something epic started to happen.
We stopped in Montreal for an hour then on to Pittsburgh
and the William Penn Hotel. The burst through that tunnel
still as thrilling.

18 March
[Filming of Dogma]
11 Costume fitting. Versace rules. Abigail6 is obviously v. v.
good. She doesn’t put a foot wrong in terms of shape, line,
texture. And she’s willing to listen.
3pm Read with Linda Fiorentino. Also meet Jay (Jason
Mewes7) and assume like an idiot that he’s Kevin’s assistant then
recognise him from Chasing Amy. Foot deeply in it. Linda
thinks this is hilarious. She’s everything she looks and sounds –
smoky, dark, a coming-on disposition. Somewhere in the
middle Ben Affleck crashes in, later Jason Lee and later yet
Matt Damon. The room is suddenly full of baseball caps,
popping cans of water/iced tea/whatever, peeling oranges,
potato chips, cigarette smoke. We bungee-jump our way
through the script. Chaotic, free fall, Linda resolutely giving
nothing . . . which we discuss somewhat in the Steelyard
restaurant later. Everything slows up or opens out here and we
have some really interesting, open chat. They are all bright,
funny, passionate people. And vulnerable. Some eyes soften I’m
glad to say.

19 March
9 Kevin Smith has the strangest way of running a rehearsal.
Matt and Ben seem to take it, so when in Pittsburgh . . . We
spend an hour reading newspapers, chatting, sitting,
waiting . . . for breakfast. No explanations or attempts to pull
us together. Then we do this sort of show and tell rehearsal.
Get up, go in the middle and do your scenes. Kevin just
watches, says ‘sweet’ and at the end of a scene takes
photographs on his digital camera. Jason Lee throws himself at
it, Linda beyond laid back.
3pm Linda and me. Where Kevin gives line readings or says
up a bit, down a bit on odd lines. It has its own real charm. He
wrote it. He hears the tunes.
Supper in the room. Strange, dislocated perplexed state of
mind. Sometimes one feels like the milk bottle without which
the rocket can’t take off. But that would be negative thinking
so away! with it.

20 March
6.45 Drive to Pittsburgh Airport for 8.05 → New York.
Somewhere around 10 arrive at the studio for prosthetic
making.
To the Lombardy Hotel.

21 March
2.30 The Big Lebowski.
Like its title sounds – sprawling. Jewels in amongst the box
of chocolates and other such mixed metaphors.

26 March
10.15 Car to Newark Airport for 12.14 flight to Pittsburgh.
To the set, the church.
3pm Wardrobe for costume fitting. Would like to drop 10lbs
overnight. Starvation diet before Wednesday.

31 March
To the set, the church.
George Carlin and the Buddy Christ8 figure both on great
form. Carlin improvising brilliantly with the extras. Should
have taped him. An echo of the day when Gore Vidal joined
us, in Pittsburgh, on Bob Roberts.

1 April
7.30am pick-up to the set and all day in the Mexican
restaurant.
A six page scene to start the film. Reminders of day one on
Michael Collins. Here was another cliff face only this time
involving the daggers-drawn battle between memory and any
kind of freedom. Somewhere in there the 2 shots, the one
over-the-shoulder and the close-ups, there were moments
when it took off but always with the slight frustration of not
really being able to make it a scene between 2 people. So much
plot to get over. And fast.
Kevin seemed to be flushed with happiness at the end of the
day. Hours skate by at times like these. 7.30am pick-up finish at
6pm.
Linda has this volcano of brilliance rumbling quietly
underneath the persona she brings out and applies to every
line. Seductive, dark, throaty, eyebrows arched, eyes rolling. All
fascinating and all wrong for this character. But it ain’t my place
to say anything. I must be learning.

3 April
Spoke with Mike Nichols who issued invite out to Martha’s
Vineyard. Certainly. Happily.
2.30 Pick-up for car to JFK and 5pm → Heathrow.
6 April
8 Closer.
A cast trapped by their director.9 Who is also the author.
Same old problem. Frances Barber talks of being unable to step
outside Patrick’s notes. And it’s true – you can see the lines
sitting on the page.
To the Ivy & Teatro. Someone should do tests on Frances –
to measure how laughter makes you healthy because something
must be counteracting the wine intake. A hasty escape from
Teatro when the Daily Mail slides into the cubicle, along with
Caroline Aherne.

11 April
Discovering exactly what I earned on Judas Kiss (the movie)
was a bit of a shock.

13 April
The Iceman Cometh.
Kevin Spacey is the acting equivalent of a champion surfer.
He makes everyone else look effortful. Even if he also carries a
slightly self-satisfied air.

19 April
Watching the BAFTA awards. Like watching from Mars.
Where I speak only Martian. At least Titanic went home
empty-handed.
But, yet again, apart from Sigourney Weaver, so did The Ice
Storm, a continuing injustice in the nonsense of these
ceremonies. Winter Guest keeps good company. And avoids a
deeply tacky ceremony which at times shamed all those
present.

25 April
12.25 → Pittsburgh.
27 April
1pm Costume fitting. Issey Miyake has sent two garments from
Outer Space – a little too far out for this film.
4.15 To the doctor to deal with the nose bleeds. He
cauterises (another word for hurts).
8.15 Jeff10 comes to re-dye my hair.

30 April
A rehearsal. At which Linda asks for 2 lines out of 5. Has she
looked at the scene apart from on the drive in? I am catapulted
into a dark and frowning place – silent with resentment at
having to work solo. Again. And so – a long day with a pile of
lines and [a] scene that’s all about prosthetics and 80lb wings.
The latter is a unique experience. When they’re down it’s like a
magnet pulling you against the wall and as the minutes turn
into half hours the weight and the harness play games with the
memory. Pain versus concentration. And still Linda blows her
lines. Kevin does notice. And asks me if there’s a problem.
What can you say?

1 May
Vince11 and his team paste me into my false crotch and away
we go with a cinema first. Full frontal no frontal. Everyone
takes many snaps which will doubtless wind up on the internet.
Somewhere during the day someone mentions this great
dermatologist Linda has been to. Off I trot to 3pm
appointment. Dr Nancy Nieland[-Fisher] promptly informs me
I have rosacea, psoriasis and acne and here are your
prescriptions for these ungetriddable ailments. Great.

5 May
Meet Alanis Morissette. She’s in the make-up van having
flowers put in her hair. Odd this. I have the CD12 along with
the rest of the world. All that angst and rock ’n’ roll. Here’s this
quiet, charming, gentle girl/woman. We wait a lot, shoot a bit.
Share a van back to the hotel. Talk about work; what’s now,
what’s next. The Girl Next Door acquires new resonance.

6 May
Me and Alanis – comedy duo. Who knew? Laurel and Hardy
live . . .

7 May
Definite change in the atmosphere – Chris Rock allows himself
to be more vulnerable now that Ben A has gone. That’s one of
the deals with the devil – surrender your peculiarities to the
pushy certainties; be seen as often as possible with a mobile
phone – right up to a call for ‘Action’.
All sorts of stuff released – in the bus on the way back to the
hotel Salma Hayek talks of her time in India as a volunteer for
Mother Teresa – this utterly beautiful woman talking of wiping
up shit and worms and keeping the flies off a dying woman’s
face.
Alanis had talked only yesterday of being there too.

8 May
Pittsburgh will forever be associated with my room at the
William Penn Hotel. Car-less, cab-less and on a film which is
all about creating a family of any description. I have a feeling
that the need is there throughout the unit, but there is a shyness
at the top which coagulates unhappily with the arrogance
factor and makes visible vulnerability impossible. I’m just not
around enough to make a huge difference.

9 May
Somewhere on the way back to the hotel, I felt a familiar
knife-like pain in my lower back. I know what this means. Five
days of pain. The wings have caught up with me.

10 May
Trying to move the body out of bed is like a mathematical
equation. A slow progression to an upright position and an 8am
pick-up by Ratz, the production designer, and off to the flea
market.

11 May
Woke up at 8 after just over 4 hours’ sleep. The pain in the
lower back is bad so a chiropractor is called. Maybe not such a
wise move. There is a pinched nerve and all around it muscles
have put their fists up to defend it.
7.50 pick-up for the 5 min drive to the Station restaurant.
Pain starting to dominate every thought and move . . . A bad
call was to shoot my close-up at 3.30am because by then my
brain had gone. I asked for cue cards. First time ever. Horrible
experience. But otherwise no scene and a lot of despair. Pain
worse and worse. Standing up from the chair excruciating.

12 May
The pain is too gross. Can’t film tonight. They shift the scenes
around . . . Doctor comes and gives pills for spasms and pain.
Somewhere in here, had a massage. Watched TV standing up.

13 May
To the hospital for X-rays. Fortunately, no disc problems but
muscle spasms are eased by a brace (which I probably should
have been wearing with the wings anyway).

15 May
A day when the pain lessens gradually and then just when
you’re feeling confident, stabs you hard.
Clearing up. Clearing out. Moving on. Again.
Listening to Sinatra songs all day on TV. Even the dreaded
‘My Way’ is coated with that amazing voice, although the
utterly unpredictable phrasing is better heard in ‘All The Way’
or the spider’s trap of ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin’. Someone
dies and for a while you stop taking them for granted.
16 May
11.50 to New York.

20 May
9am Flight to Los Angeles and the Mondrian Hotel.

21 May
9am Lasse Halström. Gentle man. V. intriguing script of Cider
House Rules. Would not require acting – just getting on with it
while the camera has a look.
2.15 Car to looping for Judas Kiss. Sebastian [Gutierrez,
director] says would you like the good news or the bad news.
Turns out there’s really only bad news. The Germans & Stefan
[Simchowitz, producer] have cut the film to resemble an action
flick which means Emma & I are trimmed to the bone (or so it
seems). Plus ça change.

26 May
Pittsburgh.
5.40 is one of those nightmare pick-up times that punish you
all day long. Plus the gentle insistent presence of a headache
punctuated by sneezing. Just what is not needed.
The scene has a myriad set-ups and by the early evening is
drowning in the daily fly-past up above, the shoot coming alive
to the sound of ghetto-blasters.

30 May
6.45[pm] pick-up and out to the Star Lake auditorium to walk
on water. Which all works fine apart from the by now
predictable 3am when the camera comes round, and my brain
is frying gently. But there’s a vaguely celebratory atmosphere,
the lake lit beautifully and as dawn broke we drank some
champagne in the make-up trailer and said goodbyes.
To bed at 7am.
1 June
5.50[pm] → New York.

4 June
8.30 Eddie Izzard’s show.
He was more openly political than I have ever seen him and
wonderful as he skated around from Pol Pot to landing on the
moon to puberty.
Later – to Balthazar. Eddie in jeans, T-shirt and 4” stilettos.
A lovely evening.

5 June
As Catherine was saying on the phone this morning, Eddie is
one of the people who change the world. And the morning
after I feel real admiration for the clarity of his stance, and the
shrewdness of his approach. He challenges and reassures at the
same time and you can hear the grind and click of rusty minds
all over the audience.

6 June
7.30 Wangle my way on to Concorde. Hooray. Ivana Trump
adds a bit of dash sitting in front of me just where I can watch
her checking her press clippings, tearing bits out, looking
through itineraries and then rather touchingly looking long &
hard at photos of loved ones before putting them back in her
wallet.

20 July
7.30 Broadcasting House. Dinner . . . What to say about this?
Were we set decoration? Will any of it be of use? Michael
Frayn the only real intellectual heavyweight. Richard Eyre v.
good as was Jonathan.13 Harvey G[oldsmith] – opinionated.
Simon Russell Beale & I hoping same. Simon Curtis [film
director] and Elizabeth14 think it’s funny to tell stories of me in
silk pyjamas during the [LA] earthquake.
21 July
RADA Appeals Committee.
Attenborough tells horrific tales of Arts Council Lottery
funding cutbacks, double-dealings etc., etc. And, consistently,
he puts his hand into his pocket to shore the whole thing up.

30 July
8 Dinner w. Catherine & David Bailey.
The loft of anyone’s dreams. High above King’s Cross
Station, the rails curving into the arched entrance. Hours of
potential pleasure people-watching from this big airy room
with its TV den tucked round a corner. They are a great
couple. Aside from all the iconic stuff, both very vulnerable
and straightforward.

3 August
HOLIDAYS!
Talk to Helen Mirren who, as ever, is warm, funny, honest,
persuasive, understanding, persuasive . . .
12 Car to Whiteley’s [shopping centre] (Amex & A&C) and
on to Heathrow for supposed 2.10 → Rome. It took off at 4.
Livia meets us for (it turns out) her first ‘long’ drive for 10
years. Never goes on autostradas. So drives slow. Until the full
stop. And what looks like a hideous crash six cars ahead. A
container lorry stretched and crushed across the road like a
huge broken unknown animal. Eventually discover that the
driver has been pulled clear and seems OK . . . 2 hours later
the crane lifts the entire thing into the air – a massive poetic
sight as endless frozen carcasses of meat spill out across the road.
Antonioni.15
2am. Sit down to pasta & prawns as the crickets do their
stuff.

4 August
5 A drive into Capalbio. Etruscan walls, narrow streets, waiting
to be a film set. Or for the tourists to just fuck off.
7.30pm. That’s it. I’m doing it. Antony & Cleopatra. NT.
Helen M. Sean [Mathias] Relief.

6 August
A great happy beach day . . . I’m reading Arnold Wesker’s
account of The Birth of Shylock and the Death of Zero Mostel. I
know it was written (it’s a diary) in 76-77 but I am shocked by
the overall tone. Deification of John Dexter,16 total fascination
with Wesker’s own every thought & move. Especial fascination
with the number of times his advice had not been heeded. The
amount of input – almost as 2nd director – that had been
allowed but mostly the patronising of actors – constantly
referred to by their characters’ names. Endless references to him
& Dexter hissing comments during run-through. Actors are
performing dogs – malleable, silly, not capable of rational
thought just blind instinct & infuriating inabilities to hear their
authors’ ‘music’. And it comes across as a surprise to find they
have private lives. But he does quote John Whiting17
memorably – ‘A line in a play holds just so much sense and no
more. Just so much emotion & no more . . . The really great
actors exercise their own control. They give a line an essential
rightness of sense which makes it seem impossible to read any
other way. They also make the emotion a kind of atmosphere
in which the sense can freely exist. LESSER TALENTS
OFTEN TRY TO OVER-HUMANISE.’ (here)
8.30 Spoke to Paul Lyon-Maris. Something about the NT
contract. Will do Antony & Cleopatra for about £100 per
performance. Tell that to those opera singers. Patrick Proctor18
will do the poster.

9 August
11ish to the beach. Finishing the Wesker diary. Contradictory,
irrational, pointed, exact, self-delusory, honest, self-important,
fickle – whatever adjective suits – apply. And ultimately so
disrespectful to actors. We should all be engaged in an activity
which ‘gives away’. Here, too much is ‘on show’.

11 August
8ish Dinner at Monte Po. This is like a chapter from Evelyn
Waugh. The Greenes. Graham19 & Sally and their children
Matt (screenwriter, Los Angeles), Charlotte (the homemaker)
and Alexander. This breathtaking house, every corner filled
with effortless taste and abundant eccentricity. Candle-strewn
tables, a disco upstairs with the children dancing behind a
shadow-lit sheet. And the cook quit at 5pm. Hat, bag, case, the
lot.

17 August
First day rehearsals Antony & Cleopatra.
Rehearsal Room 1 and a time warp image of a circle of
cushions on a collage of Turkish carpets. But it’s not a bad
thing to be thinking of Peter Brook and 1978 especially
because whatever else Helen and I will never fall into the
alarmingly cold space that Alan Howard and Glenda Jackson
inhabited.
Anyway, a few familiar faces . . . are there and lots of
strangers with great faces. Trevor Nunn greets us with a big
hug and a hello speech surrounded by the NT staff and then
Patsy R.20 gets us breathing before Sean starts. The rest of the
day is picking the text up in forefinger and thumb for
examination.
Tim Hatley shows us the set, David Belugou his costumes.
First alarm bells. I hope unnecessary – but how will we make
this personal and not epic given that golden wall, those clothes?

19 August
5.30 First run (words) of Act 1. Too much acting from me . . .

20 August
Sean handles rehearsals beautifully. Honest, fun, denying the
power of his role, really. ‘I can’t direct unless you show me
something’ – or words to that effect.

21 August
11.30 26 Manchester Street and Patrick Proctor. (Suddenly
there’s a reason for a diary.) Dressed immaculately (was it a
paper hanky tucked into his pocket?). And however drunk he is
– and he is – he knows he’s wearing a Versace tie. The drawing
time amounts to about 15 mins during the next hour,
interspersed with several large whiskies. But whenever, as he
lowers himself on to his stool his eyes focus murderously on to
me, lines come out of him on to the canvas . . . that are
ravishing. He insists in his utterly aristocratic way on lunch. At
Odin’s – full of Peter Langan’s drawings & paintings. Beautiful
Laura Knight, Hockney and across the way – Proctor.

24 August
A session with Patsy and in roughly 20 mins she sorts out the
‘fogging’ vocal problem. Surprise – I’m not breathing properly
(1) and (2) drinking enough water.
8 To Sandra & Michael Kamen for Sandra’s birthday. And in
view of Sandra’s recent aneurysm and operation it’s great to see
her cutting a cake, answering the door, anything. George
Harrison there trying to find a corner, a hallway, anywhere but
the middle of the room at, God forbid, a party. I can see his
point. He seems incredibly genuine and open.

25 August
Reading through Act 2. Something light and generous takes
hold and all of Sean’s work & methods over the last 10 days
pays off. As he said afterwards it was simple and direct and
modern.

26 August
Strange to feel this company getting closer and closer but
somehow Helen and I remain on the outside. With Finbar.21
Involved, committed but outside. Make of it what you will.

27 August
9.45 There’s no solution to where’s the taxi? Except the fantasy
of the NT sending a car. Ha. So – late again.
pm On into the wondrous depths of Antony & Cleopatra.
Evening reading in a circle, in a monotone, the jaw drops.
Supper at home. Packing.

28 August
TO ALASKA!
12 Alaskan time. Arrive Juneau Airport.
1.30 Deliver surprise of the year to Mary Elizabeth
[Mastrantonio] on the set . . .
3.30 River rafting. Wind, driving rain, talk of ‘How not to
fall in’ – we nearly chickened out, but didn’t and are glad.

30 August
7.30 Drinks in the Red Saloon before 8.30 dinner & Alaskan
totem rituals in completely designed-and-built-from-scratch
top floor, over-the-pool venue . . . The constant sense of who’s
sitting where beginning to wear me down. Robin Williams
arrives – his usual, disarming, shy, unpushy self and makes an
example of everyone. Dance till late while Rima ‘Scrabbles’ in
the bar.

31 August
8.30 Wake. Pack.
And the long goodbyes.
Through all the unbelievable work and care and attention to
detail it’s hard to let go and just enjoy it. A gift others possess.
This year’s guest list [at Paul Allen’s party] included – Francis
Ford Coppola, George Lucas, James Cameron, Neil Jordan, Jim
Sheridan,22 Terry George, Jeff Goldblum, Candice Bergen,
Annabeth Gish,23 Ed Begley, Dave Stewart, Deepak Chopra,
John Richmond,24 Noel Redding, Dan Aykroyd, Robin
Williams, Patti Smith,25 Jennifer Saunders, Ade Edmondson,
Clare Peploe,26 Douglas Adams, Quincy Jones, Carrie Fisher,
etc., etc. All mixed up with scientists, architects and Belfast
family members.

1 September
RETURN FROM ALASKA.
11.30 (Managed some sleep) . . . Car back home. Change.
On to NT arrive 3pm. Straight into reading Act 3. Use it, I
thought, and the spirit was accurate but the eyesight was weak.

2 September
Finishing the work-through of Act 4. Odd flicker of shapes,
cohesions, threads appear through the jet-lag recovery.
Sometimes I speak, for a long time I’m silent. So much so, that
Helen wonders in her easy non-judgemental way if I’m OK
with the process or find it boring? Nothing could be further
from the truth. I just lose myself in possibilities with this
glorious play. Talk about ‘mouthed to flesh-burst gush’.27

3 September
Lunchtime – looking at Patrick Proctor’s finished work. It
looks like a portrait of two 14-year-olds. Not far wrong.

7 September
First day of moving the play. By late afternoon – alarm bells.
These weeks of detailed text work and now a day of some v.
good work but no real sense of sorting wheat from chaff. So in
there is some terribly demonstrated work and bad verse
speaking. The set proving to be as awkward as I had feared in
terms of creating a dynamic set of entrances and exits.
8 September
Better. I’m a dog with a slipper in the morning. I can feel all
the new separate energies flying around. Helen, if offered no
other option, does a solo act. One small suggestion and she
transforms spectacularly. Instinctive genius.

17 September
Working through the 4th Act am . . . and Sean is worrying
about the impenetrable lyricism of this part of the play. It forces
me to analyse aims – specific feelings, actions. And in the
following run-through a lot becomes clearer, more direct. Sean
is a big pile of Kleenex – and honest to himself ever, tells us
how moved he was. It is in a way, a warning. Don’t sit back on
it.

23 September
These have been difficult days, running scenes with that awful
grasping sense of the text. So – no impetus inside. And
listening to text being chopped every which way, so no
impetus outside.
The only solution is to stop and teach. I sound and feel so
reactionary but it is like a knife in the stomach when
Shakespeare is rewritten or ridden the wrong way. He makes it
easy (or easier) if you think on the line.
6.30 Fittings. The mustard suede is on its way out.
Hallelujah. I would have been a face with no body.

28 September
Run through Act 3. Ohmigod.

29 September
Starting Act 4. Learning lines a little ahead of myself here.
Recipe for panic.

30 September
Oh God, let me lose this script.

1 October
3 hours’ sleep and a run. Thank God for experience (of a kind)
otherwise I’d be reaching for the hand-gun.

5 October
7pm First run – Act 1.
Sean’s happy. It feels like a mess to me. Except for Helen
who is free, creative and flying. An afternoon of Katia C.28 and
her intense missing of the point exhausts me.

6 October
These are the tough days. I can feel myself not exactly closing
off from the company but concentrating so hard that chatter
disappears.
The Thidias Scene is the first big Waterloo. You just have to
say these words over and over so that the knowledge sinks deep.

7 October
2.30 The first run-through. An out of body experience. Full of
heroics, dumbness, company things, solo things, conclusive,
inconclusive. But a basis. For tomorrow. And an excuse for
getting fairly blasted in the bar afterwards.

8 October
Hung over in a major way.
3pm The Tech starts. Memorable moment in the wings as
Helen says ‘I’m so happy . . . all I dreamed of as a girl was to be
a queen in a big theatre . . . ’

9 October
Hung over in another major way.
The day spirals on, the costume gradually appears, the
character gradually disappears; hairpiece is tried. Much hoopla
from the rest of the cast. Only question marks from me.

10 October
Like a car crash we get past the interval and on into the second
half. My questions are getting larger & more urgent. Where is
the music? Where will the story be? Time and again where is
the exactness?
11.30 In the bar. Everybody is good humoured. Helen and I
quietly hoping there will be a dress rehearsal.

11 October
11am–7pm and at the close we are still in Act 4. A kind of
calm terror looms at the prospect of a public performance
tomorrow night. Armour seen for the first time . . . Why?
Could it not have been made in week 3 or 4? It’s a prop. Now
they have to duck and dive all day tomorrow as we all face the
prospect of public improvisation for close on 4 hours. The
music appears in arbitrary strokes. The lighting will be an
instant surprise.

12 October
7.15 and on . . .
1200 people watching a dress rehearsal and only the second-
ever run of the play. Utterly terrifying. And I will always think
– destructive. But, of course, we have to turn it to our
advantage.

13 October
Second performance.
It grows. And shrinks. But it has started to find its space.

14 October
Still hideous nerves. It’s so big, this play. And this theatre.
Later talking on the doorstep with Helen & Sean. His
vulnerability in spades. But so? Directors, I think, aren’t
allowed that. They should only encourage, challenge, reassure.
Never look for validation.

15 October
The gremlins arrive.
Skidding on water.
Road trips on the breakers.
The sword falls from its scabbard and is revolved off.
Antony killed himself with Eros’ sword tonight . . .
A corporate members’ do in the Olivier bar. Followed by a
too-late session with Helen and some LX guys.

17 October
1.30 First matinée.
Somewhere around 6.25 . . . Sean comes in, looking wired.
He doesn’t drink but I found myself looking at his can of
orange juice wondering about the effect of carbonated water.
For some reason he was on the attack. ‘Would it hurt you to
show some fucking charm?’ I was stunned, asked him not to
speak to me like that, he nearly stormed out. I said just give me
the notes, this is the first time you’ve mentioned this, I’m
piecing the part together etc., etc. The evening show was a step
forward but as I write this I’m still bewildered. Had people
been nagging him? What? Ian McK. & Charlotte Cornwell
came round having loved it. Were they sent too?

18 October
A day of relative stillness. Sleep. Newspapers. Planet Organic.
Cappuccino. Ironing the odd shirt. Answering mail. Cooking
supper. Thinking. Thinking. Rima, blessedly and
unsentimentally, with me.

20 October
7pm Press night.
 As per usual everything heightened. Therefore – high
energy, high focus, not as free as it should be.
Later to Soho House.

21 October
And then the morning quietness which means the press is not
good. Eventually I hear the tentative messages and get the
picture.
7pm Second performance. Not easy. Nothing discussed. Is
this a good idea? I don’t think so. Major cut inflicted during
the show so I pour blood until plasters are slapped on.

22 October
Here we are again. Major avoidance. Major silence. Appalling
how Good/Bad determines everyone’s response – like it’s some
club to which you have admittance, or not.
7pm Actually, a show full of good things. And lessons. Don’t
push so hard throughout. Find things. Let go. Led by Helen –
the freest soul.

23 October
7pm The other side of the coin. Young actors playing their
own isolated ideas – no sense of status (of character). In the
Thidias Scene I hit Ed29 twice. Wrong, wrong. But when
Antony is in that kind of rage and is faced by such insolence it
is almost unavoidable.

25 October
Another heavy silence hangs over the grey, grey day . . . By
now this means only more bad press . . . OK – on through the
next 6 weeks.

26 October
7pm These are the tough shows. Everyone knows what has
been said. No one refers to it. Except at the interval (after a
shaky first half) there’s a very touching, anonymous note from
the company sending love and loyalty.
At the end of the show, Sean knocks. Unaware of what it
might have been like for an actor tonight when it is pointed
out he says ‘What about me?’ Oh Sean . . .

29 October
2.45 Company call.
Sean tells us how important a time this is for him.

30 October
Maybe it’s time to try and let go. Antony would. Stop holding
on to the problem.

4 November
This just feels impossible. But somehow it happens. Belinda &
Hugh are there and full of disbelief of the reviews.
Working through a dizzying band of tiredness. Some things
released, some trapped. A swift cab home – some simmering
anger from a phone call to Paola Dionisotti (not her fault – just
articulating friends’ lack of faith – YET AGAIN).

6 November
This one was tough. An incipient cold/flu/thing threatens.
Worse – bone crushing tiredness and an awareness that there is
a price to pay for a night out.
10.45 With a bit more nerve I should have gone to Langan’s
Brasserie . . . with Patrick Proctor & friend. He loved it. Bless
him.

10 November
Mistaken purchase of Time Out . . . forgetting inevitable
discovery of theatre review. How trashed can you be?

13 November
7 . . . Ed punches me, so I kick him, he kicks me again, I kick
him again . . . Drama centre . . .

14 November
6am What is this destructive force within my body that makes
me wake at 5.30 knowing that I have two shows today?
Malevolent and unfair.
1.30 and 7pm with a 2 hour break. Dizziness, yawning and
eventually at around 9.30ish a sudden burst of energy. From
where? Finbar thinks I put him down with ‘Thou art a soldier
only . . .’ These sensitive souls around whom Helen and I are
like bookends.

18 November
Helen says she’s nervous. I worry that she’s starting to shout her
way through it.

19 November
A blessed 1½ hours’ sleep, somewhere between 9 & 10.30.
Tonight remarkable for the woman with flash camera – 3
shots in the first ½ hour.
→ Back to the world of ‘well done’ from Danny, Leila,
Emily, Tom. But not Arlene who clearly thinks she’s seen
something else . . . Bless her . . .

20 November
Long phone call from Ian McKellen. Gee-ing up, reminding,
empowering, focusing. He’s currently rehearsing Present
Laughter ‘without a director’.

21 November
Spent some time flipping back through the pages of this
extraordinary year. Some 27 plane rides . . . The Winter Guest,
Japan, Spain, South Africa, Dogma, Pittsburgh, Antony &
Cleopatra . . .
 The odd moment of peace in Tuscany. Like living in a
watershed. Or so, I am sure, it will prove.
1.30 The long slog begins . . . The matinée has a
freewheeling thing that feels good. After, Vivien H.30 brings
round some professor of drama in Hawaii who says I have some
‘moments’ that ‘show potential’.

26 November
A real need to sleep as long as possible.
7 The show is all fits and starts, pluses and minuses.
11.30 To Sheekey’s. Richard Wilson and Anna Massey. A
depressingly chill air over their response especially after last
night. How volatile an inexpertly directed show is, how much
it depends on the spit sharp energies of its actors. Still I attempt
to articulate the positive, how negative has this experience
been?

28 November
. . . a happy audience. More and more people saying ‘What
were they talking about?’

1 December
1.30 The curse of the matinée. From which it is hard to
recover.
7 This is an endurance test. One scene at a time, conserve
energy where you can.

3 December
And the last performance. Just to help it along – a barracker is
in the audience apparently shouting ‘Rubbish!’ at one point
and then ‘Quiet, ladies’ as Helen & I are kissing. Removed at
the interval.

4 December
Bed at 7am.
 Woke at 12.
To the theatre to clear out the dressing room. Turns out to
be a 2 hour job.

7 December
First night home just making supper, watching TV. Helen is
right – I miss Antony. Or the idea of him. The reality is just
too tough. But moments recur. And the defensiveness mounts.

10 December
Talk to Helen. News comes of Sunday Telegraph hate piece. Fax
sent to Dominic Lawson [editor].

11 December
Morning dealing with ICM, Keith Shilling [lawyer specialising
in privacy law], National, Thelma re Telegraph and now Daily
Mail pieces. Total lies. Invention. Malice.

13 December
3pm To Richard & Ruthie Rogers’31 for their 25th wedding
anniversary.

18 December
Conor McDermottroe comes by. We wander to David
Wainwright – Ruby had said of her gift (metal-framed mirror)
‘take it back to DW if you don’t like it’. DW says, ‘We haven’t
stocked this for 6 months.’ The penny drops. I think this mirror
used to hang over her kitchen fireplace.

20 December
7.30 To Lindsay & Hilton.
A real sense of who came to see A&C and who didn’t.
Curious how these things matter.

22 December
4[am] pick-up for Heathrow.
6.20 Flight to Cape Town.
Impossible to sleep.
Watched Zorro – Prince of Thieves with swords & masks but
Ms Zeta-Jones jumps off the screen.

23 December
8.15am or so arrive Cape Town.
Taxi to the house.
Lovely house, splash pool out front – hammock looking
straight at Table Mountain; inside every room full of wonderful
witty ceramics – Marmite pot full of walking sticks, huge
balsamic vinegar bottle etc., etc. I immediately collide with
coffee table and start breaking things. What is it with me?
1
Katharine Viner, British journalist (1971–)
2
He was diagnosed with leukemia.
3
American actor (1952–)
4
Japanese designer (1938–)
5
British photographer (1952–)
6
Abigail Murray, costume designer
7
American actor (1974–)
8
Scene in Dogma in which a cardinal attempts to rebrand Jesus Christ
9
Patrick Marber
10
Jeffrey A. Rubis, makeup artist
11
Vincent J. Guastini, special effects makeup creator
12
Jagged Little Pill
13
Jonathan Kent, English theatre director (1949–)
14
Elizabeth McGovern, American actor (1961–), S.C.’s wife
15
Michelangelo Anonioni, Italian film director (1912–2007), best known for films
such as Blow-up
16
English theatre director (1925–1990)
17
English actor, playwright and author (1917–1963)
18
English painter (1936–2003)
19
Graham Greene (1936–2016), British publisher
20
Patsy Rodenburg, British voice coach (1953–)
21
Irish actor Finbar Lynch (1959–)
22
Irish playwright (1949–)
23
American actor (1971–)
24
English fashion designer (1960–)
25
American singer-songwriter (1946–)
26
British screenwriter (1942–2021)
27
From ‘The Wreck of the Deutschland’ by Gerard Manley Hopkins
28
Katia Caballero, playing Octavia
29
Edward Laurie, playing Thidias
30
Scottish actor Vivien Heilbron (1944–)
31
British architect Richard Rogers (1933–2021) and his wife, British chef and
restaurateur Ruth Rogers (1949–)
 1999
LOS ANGELES, OSCARS – NEW YORK – LOS
ANGELES – UTAH – CANNES – LOS ANGELES –
DAVID HARE – NEW YORK – LOS ANGELES –
GALAXY QUEST SCREENING – NEW YORK –
LONDON

11 January
6.30 Miranda Richardson picks me up – off to Camberwell Art
Gallery for the Julian Schnabel show. He’s there, and a charmer.
The room is packed with young people in black – nobody
looking at the paintings, which are huge and looking at us
actually.
8.45 To Pharmacy for a drink.
9.15 The evening has terminal cool. At the Campden Hill
Square house there are Schnabels, a Bacon, a Warhol, some
Basquiats. Terry Gilliam arrives with Johnny Depp. As we leave
the party, Depp is in close conversation with Kate Moss who
has suddenly materialised. I feel like I’m walking around in a
magazine.

15 March
12.05 → Flight to Los Angeles.
Galaxy Quest.

16 March
9am pick-up. Plaster cast to be made of my head. As usual the
experts are charming self-effacing people utterly confident of
their craft. This is the second time I have had my head encased
in plaster or goo (Rasputin was the first). It is a very
disconcerting experience. You have to talk yourself out of
panic or fainting. Can’t see, hear, speak or move. The stuff
(same as dentists use) is cold, then warm as it sets – temperature
and consistency gradually changing as your world closes in.

19 March
8 onwards (we arrived 9.15) Ed Limato’s1 party. Absolute 24
carat Hollywood. Faye Dunaway, Warren Beatty, Jack
Nicholson, Madonna, Emily Watson, Holly H., Catherine Z.-
J., Michael Douglas, Nicolas Cage, Minnie D., Rupert E.,
Carrie F. etc., etc.

21 March
4pm → Dan and Barbara’s [old friends] for Oscars 99 TV Fest.
Apart from its sheer length this was suffused with an air of
something manipulated, cynical and insincere. Knowing too
much about G.P.2 doesn’t help. Memories of Out of Sight,
Dancing at Lughnasa etc., etc. abound. Real acting rather than
the demonstrated neon-lit stuff that gets awards. Often.

24 March
6.15 pick-up for the 7.55 flight to New York. 3 minutes down
the road I remember my shirts and jackets are still in the closet
at the 4 Seasons.

25 March
6.30 First night – Closer. This is the difference between here
and London. Outside the theatre there are cameras, TV &
flashbulbs. Inside Judi Dench sitting in front of me – elsewhere,
Harrison Ford, Uma Thurman, Ethan Hawke, Kate Moss etc.,
etc. The production still doesn’t fly – Patrick won’t let it.
Natasha and Rupert Everett very good. Anna Friel amazingly
first time on stage. Ciarán [Hinds] yelling a bit. Natasha doing
the star bit way too much with dressing room lists and celeb
table at the party. Went to Café Loup with several of the above.
Kate M. very sweet and vulnerable – a victim of the crap
which Natasha craves. Depressing.

29 March
3pm Mike Nichols’ to talk about Betrayal/The Real Thing.
Lindsay still not getting any keener, but thankfully she’s as
articulate as ever about it. A reading is arranged for Wednesday.

31 March
Talking to Bob this morning I discover that the Betrayal/Real
Thing double bill is intended for off Broadway. I still have a
hankering for Private Lives on Broadway.
Gramercy Park Theatre for reading of The Real Thing. I
enjoyed letting rip on this part and the play has subtle painful
threads running through it. I should have done it in 1984.
Now? Lindsay not keen. Mike N. very keen.

1 April
6.15 pick-up for 8am flight to LAX.
4ish Rima arrives from London. We struggle together with
the mechanics of the house – esp the insane TV system.

3 April
Waiting for the pool man, the satellite TV man and Lauren the
cleaner to make their separate arrivals so as they could sort out
my life. Also drive to Sunset Plaza Drive to see possible rental.
V. clean, new-pin, soulless.

26 April
Galaxy Quest.
5.45 pick-up
and the Dining Room scene.
This is tough stuff – not made simpler if no one drives the
car, be it director or leading actor. Also having to deal with a
bowl full of leeches and centipedes who, unsurprisingly, do not
wish to remain in their watery abode and proceed to wreck the
scene by crawling up, out and all over the place.

6 May
3.15 pick-up → Burbank Airport for 4.45 flight to Grand
Junction, Utah, and drive to Green River. The town is one big
truck stop. Dozens of motels, places to buy steak, frankfurters,
ice cream, watch satellite sports in bars.

8 May
Working in Goblin Valley.
This amazing place. Wind and seas have eroded the valley
into something akin to the Chinese soldiers’ tombs, only here
it’s those mushroom/goblin/penis shapes that create a dizzying
maze all over the valley – especially as it looks more film-set
planet than real planet. But ‘exposed’ hardly describes it. Wind
and sun rule.

9 May
5–7 Rehearse at the Comfort Inn. Actually ‘rehearse’ is so far
from the right word. Cue monologue might be better.

10 May
6am pick-up for a day in the wind, the dust and the red dirt.
And the other side of the coin. At the end of the day Sam
[Rockwell] says ‘Sorry.’ I say ‘For what?’ ‘I just don’t want you
to think American actors are wankers.’ Which, of course, I
don’t. But Tim [Allen] has this perverse need to needle,
antagonise, provoke, demoralise – he just thinks he’s being
funny (maybe) – which just slows everything down and leads to
zero concentration. I feel like a reactionary.
The wind & dust & sun make me feel like an invalid with a
red face.

11 May
This was one of those utterly glorious Mother Nature days –
blue skies, mountains and NO wind. The landscape looks like a
cut out.
But still – Tim takes every opportunity to belittle. Finally,
there is so much chatter and noise that I can’t hear ‘action’ and
step away. ‘Oh, Alan has a little problem.’ ‘I don’t have any
problem.’ ‘Oohh.’
And doubtless, a seed has been sown.

13 May
9ish To Sigourney’s room for fried chicken with Tony
[Shalhoub] & Mark [Johnson, producer]. Some ‘political’ chat
which makes Mark look nervous. (He already looked nervous
since Sigourney’s room is a palace in Green River terms.)

14 May
pm ‘I thought that was great’ (Dean).3 ‘Well, fabulous
concentration’ (Me). Which were brave words but had an
amazing immediate effect. Oh, this complex chemistry. Young
actors looking for moments, close ups, Tim by turns pugilist
and wild animal.

17 May
9 Tamarisk w. Dean, Jerzy4 & looking at storyboard. Dean is
easy going in capital letters – whatever his inner terror, horror,
whatever, his demeanor is that of a slow cowboy song. As I
listen to them all talk I can’t feel the weight or energy of a
decision. But something progresses apparently. Maybe this film
is becoming itself without us noticing.

18 May
Grand Junction for the flight to Salt Lake City and then Los
Angeles. Said au revoir to Tim before leaving – touching that
he says he’ll miss us. ‘I’ve grown attached’ – there has been a
sea change recently in noticing the spaces that each of us needs
and should allow each other. Genuinely I was able to say that I
knew how he felt. In a week we have, I think, a really healthy
respect for each other which was frighteningly absent at first.

23 May
The long trek home.5 10.30 and into the cars to Nice airport,
London airport and then Virgin to LAX.

24 May
In the morning Sigourney is amazed by my with-it-ness. As am
I . . . But it’s a little like madness when you mess around with
sleep and travel zones – at least for ½ the day I can put one
word after the other. Later on, my legs start to leave my torso.

26 May
The Rock Monster Speech, which whenever I let it float
through my mind, or worse, tongue, seems laboured and
deeply unfunny. Something, however, stops me from forcing it
and lo and behold by adhering even more strictly to the
written text it seems to work. Seems to . . .

28 May
Hallelujah. A day off. A day free of chicken head. A day of
chicken head to be free of me.

4 June
Hawaiian Day on the set. And Tim has to motor a scene which
is the heart of the movie. And he does it beautifully.

6 June
Tony Awards. There was a messiness about it all – the
patronising air towards Arthur Miller, names being fudged, the
sense of give it to the American choice if possible.

8 June
Another day in the corridors of the space ship.

9 June
8pm Dinner with Mel Smith. Jet lag or illegal substances? Hard
to tell, but v. good to see him and fall instantly into the
shorthand of an old friendship.
10 June
8.30 pick-up.
Longish wait in the trailer. Which I like – plenty of channel-
hopping and jigsaw-finishing.

11 June
8am pick-up.
Oh boy. Writing this at 1.10am. We finished at midnight
after flying by the seat of various pants day. Beginning in my
trailer with Dean & Tim. Almost a waste of time as Tim spins
off into a rant and eventually is clawed back. I know now that
he won’t be landed without a fight. Huge budget. Impatient
producers. Actors & directors fashioning a script at the last
minute. Then the day was like a 12 hour scrum ending with
Sigourney’s transparent manoeuvrings to get in the shot or
create her own shot or whatever. It’s so transparent she might as
well announce it over the Tannoy.

14 June
7pm Buena Vista Social Club. What a joyous film. Total
collaboration. Brilliant musicians in their 70s, 80s & 90s are
rediscovered by Ry Cooder and Wim Wenders records it.
Heart-stopping music. Heart-stopping people.

8 July
Heigh ho. Still it’s the kick, bollock and scramble school of
writing. Wind up outside the sound stage with Dean &
Sigourney stitching a scene together. In comes Tim and it’s like
a nailbomb has arrived. When the initial dust settles we then
pull it all back together again. Until Sigourney walks into a
steel pole and, touchingly, becomes a 12-year-old.

20 September
8ish Dinner w. Ian McK., Edna O’B., Suzanne Bertish, Neil
Tennant, Martin Sherman,6 Penny Wilton.7 A gentle, homely
evening. Ian cooked and gave away books, mementoes as he
packs for a year in New Zealand, and the house waits to be
ripped apart.

30 November
7.30 Mamma Mia.
This was good fun, but could easily be sensational. Some real
choreographing (rather than the dated TV variety show spins
and finger snapping) would help.
The Ivy – Lindsay awaits. Heroically. Since she’s working
tomorrow. I’m a bit concerned about her – she looks
preoccupied, dispirited underneath her perennially brave &
beautiful exterior.

4 December
I have spent the last few mornings snatching moments to read
David Hare’s Acting Up. He says he has decided not to edit with
hindsight, but I wonder if he knows just how transparent it is?
More self-involved than any actor I have ever met, but then I
suppose if I kept a diary about my decision to write a play
maybe the parallels would get closer. He describes me as the V.
S. Naipaul of acting – hardly able to do it at all. That, of
course, is not unconnected with the decision not to do The
Judas Kiss.8 He forgets that I would have done it if he had
written a First Act. It remains, however, a huge ambition to
work with him. His cool candour is a breeze.

5 December
9am → to Heathrow and 10.55 → New York.

7 December
Waiting at the elevator with friends – none other than Sarah,
Duchess of York, who looks at me and yells ‘Eric!’ as in
Idle . . . Must call him.

10 December
8.30pm Lupa – 170 Thompson Street. Excellent food, good
wine and company. Nick Hytner arrived later but I was in my
‘escorting Edna O’B. role’ so left a little earlier than I should
have. She complained in the taxi that Nick had no curiosity
about any other human being, that a smugness had settled over
him. But then, that’s an epidemic.

17 December
LOS ANGELES.
8pm Little Door – Marcia, Tim, Dan O’Connor & Barbara,
Maggie & Scott & Dexter Fletcher. Seamus McG[arvey] and
Stephen Frears (who at the end of the meal says, predictably,
‘Do you need any money for the bill? No – you’re in a hit film,
aren’t you?’) . . . The general assumption that I will pay the bill
is beginning to pall a little, however.

18 December
9–6 PRESS DAY.
Unremittingly tough. Although the journalists are very
generous of spirit. They all seem to love the film.9 Hang on to
that thought. Sometimes one is articulate, ten minutes later
blathering.

19 December
2pm Screening. Terrible sound for some reason makes the
comedy harder to land. The audience goes wild at the end but
they were never quite together. Not helped by the crass editing,
of course. I notice more cuts this time.
7pm Dinner w. Sigourney, Dean & Jed [Rees]. Stories of
great notices are not helping lift my leaden heart. Here we go.
AGAIN. This is so boring. Let it go. Move on. Don’t angst
over what you can’t change. Too many films have the same
battles. At its heart GQ has an innocence they could never
understand.

20 December
8am → LAX.
10am → NY AA [American Airlines].
There is the gradual realisation of having been shafted.
Again. Almost all of my (Alexander’s) moments in the driving
seat have been removed to effectively give Tim a clear road. It’s
not just about length. Or ‘rocket-ship rides’.

26 December
NEW YORK.
4ish Ang Lee arrives with Haan and Mason, his sons, later
joined by Jane, his wife. Ang maintains his legendary (to me)
reputation for elbow-off-the-table plain speaking (you look
good – better than you did on S&S) but all in all it’s another
lovely day, with the Long Island Sound and its spreading sunset
to cast a beautiful glow.

28 December
9.10 → London . . . We’re not properly tired so fiddle about
with opening mail etc. until about 2am.

31 December
4am awake . . . Thinking . . . is that even the word for this
activity? Into my mind (or what passes for it) comes a quote
from Mandela: ‘Harder than changing the world is changing
yourself.’
8 Ian McKellen’s party.
Friends and strangers.
David Foxxe, Armistead Maupin, Dena Hammerstein,10
Martin Sherman. The house beautifully lit and decorated –
wonderful food and wines. The last gathering before the
builders and decorators move in. As midnight approaches, coats
are gathered and we all clamber on to the roof . . .
1
Talent agent
2
Gwyneth Paltrow, winner of Best Actress in a Leading Role for Shakespeare in Love
3
Dean Parisot, director
4
Jerzy Zieliński, cinematographer
5
From Cannes
6
American dramatist (1938–)
7
Penelope Wilton, English actor (1946–)
8
Play by David Hare about Oscar Wilde – not to be confused with the film Judas
Kiss that A.R. appeared in in 1998
9
Galaxy Quest
10
British actor, writer and producer (1940–)
 2000
HARRODS – FIONA SHAW – JANE LAPOTAIRE –
PARIS – OSCAR NOMINATIONS – ANNA MASSEY –
ROBIN HOOD: PRINCE OF THIEVES – COPENHAGEN
– HAMBURG – REEPERBAHN – STING – LAKE
COMO – ISMAIL MERCHANT – SAMUEL BECKETT –
AUNG SAN SUU KYI – DUBLIN – HARRY POTTER
OFFERED – THE SEARCH FOR JACK GISSING –
SHARLEEN SPITERI – TUSCANY – BRUCE WILLIS –
J.K. ROWLING – VICTORIA WOOD CHRISTMAS
SHOW – HILLARY CLINTON

1 January
We watched 2000 arrive with the river spread out below us, a
piper played on a balcony nearby and fireworks dolphined
above the skyline from Tower Bridge, Greenwich and
Docklands.
6.30am Home . . . Clearly something stilled any violence in
the streets, everywhere there was celebration and
thoughtfulness. A reflection which slid on into today. All day.
So that we didn’t want to do anything.
Bumped into P. Mandelson & Reinaldo [his partner] in
Westbourne Grove. He was eating a choc-ice and trying to rent
a video. Tea with Mussolini.
Quiet supper at home. Although with hindsight another
party would have been a good idea . . .

2 January
Later am . . . Jet lag, of course, but also brain scramblings. Of
late, this diary has become not so much a trial but almost an
avoidance and at best a record. If there is a resolution knocking
around just now it’s not about the diary as such (although it
would doubtless be affected) but to stretch the boundaries of all
relationships, try not to leave so much unsaid, put it in a note
WHEN I THINK IT – maybe as Ian McK. says succumb to
the laptop and thereby the email. Braver, less enigma, let it all
just HAPPEN. Be more known. Cut away the negatives. Say
what you mean. Be clear & decisive.
2pm Harriet W. (CBE . . .!) & Peter [Blythe].1 Some lamb
casserole & Christmas pudding, a lot of wine and dates. Many
reminders of old friends, simple pleasures, and Mandela’s
creased but curious & playful face bookends it all (BBC TV).

6 January
8.15am Julie-Kate Olivier2 picks me up → the Globe via
Helen M.’s house. Poor Helen. Two shows yesterday and we’re
ringing the bell at 8.45. ‘5 minutes’ says the voice on the
intercom . . .
6pm Emma, Greg and Gaia Romilly Wise (aged 1 month).
Ms Wise is a beautiful child and a comedian to boot. And boy
does she live in a lovely, comfortable home.

8 January
More or less all day in the Harrods Sale buying late Christmas
gifts. Sometimes easy, sometimes headbangingly difficult – not
least when clutching six carrier bags, losing one of them, going
to lost property, back on to the floor trying to check sizes one-
handed when the size is completely obliterated by a price
ticket.
10 River Cafe for supper, or so we thought, at 10.15 with
Miranda and David Young [playwright]. They eventually
arrived at 11 (disastrous) with Simon McBurney (happily). We
ordered for them earlier in some uncertainty and when the bill
came Miranda was in the loo and David was saying thank you
before I had even found my credit card. For once, I was a bit
pissed off at paying the bill. It seemed close to very bad
manners . . .

11 January
6pm A phone call from Jacky Cukier3 asking me to come to
Paris. I suggest Jan. 21st.

13 January
To Wandsworth Bridge Road and the lighting shop. Boy, is this
a backward area in GB. Try to find a decent lamp . . .
7.30 NT. Fiona [Shaw]’s production of Widowers’ Houses.
Cottesloe. The play is pretty unspeakable but Fifi has given it
the full Dostoevsky/Meyerhold/Moscow Arts production. And
good for her. This is made for 14–18-year-olds and will of
course enrage the traditionalists. Indeed there was some
reported spluttering at the end. Margaret Drabble there with
Michael Holroyd and was kind and positive about A&C. ‘It
reminded me very much of someone I knew . . .’

18 January
Slept. Woke. Read. Until 4am. Simon [Callow]’s book, Love Is
Where It Falls, is breathtakingly honest. Takes all sorts of
chances. His recall is staggering – I can’t remember what I was
doing yesterday. But then Peggy Ramsay4 is such a spiritual
guide. She talks of not trivialising one’s life – too many people,
restaurants, and of the Krishnamurti-inspired notion of
solitude. So that the mind can wander . . .

19 January
Word has reached me that Jane Lapotaire5 has had a stroke.
This eventually is corrected and as Rima suspected from the
collapse/intensive care information, the truth is an aneurysm.
Messages are sent, and a call to her agent – she cannot have
flowers, does not really want it widely known.

23 January
1.48 Eurostar to Paris. Taxi to Hotel Raphael.

24 January
1.15 To Ron & Karen Bowen’s [old friends]. Chose a painting.
Reminding myself of the Robert Graves poem about ‘Vases,
words and stillness’. Then to a fantastic Tavola Calda for lunch
and on to the Beaubourg and an exhibition devoted to time.
Hard to forget the backwards-playing film of cow → steak etc.
7 To Isabelle H. & Roni Ch. for a drink and to meet
Angelo, their 2-year-old, for the first time.

25 January
10.00 Taxi to Paris Nord. 10.15 Coffee with Isabelle D[uBar].
11.43 Eurostar to London. It’s a pleasantly disorienting
experience, this. Lunch, a newspaper, a script and you’re back
in London as if you’d been to Leeds. Odd for an islander. We
spend all our lives on boats & planes in order to escape. Now
there’s this little miracle.

29 January
To John Lewis and the purchase of the BLENDER . . .
8.30 Hampstead. My Best Friend, Tamsin Oglesby’s play.
Deeply unsatisfying production of Tamsin’s clearly good play.
No changes of gear, little of its comedy, pushing for melodrama
throughout . . . Tamsin obviously unhappy about this
production, but planning another . . .

9 February
Filing system on the stairs finally claimed its first victim. Me, a
tray with plates, bottle and glass (all empty . . .) headlong, or
rather footlong, down the stairs. And later a nagging pain to
the right ankle.

11 February
11.53 WATERLOO → PARIS → 26 Rue Guynemer –
Annette & Saul Zaentz’s apartment in St Germain.

16 February
Reading the Oscar nominations. Once again, nothing makes
much sense – sixth or otherwise. The Green Mile is an awfully
long film. But it is clear in my mind that however difficult the
subject matter the voters need space to cheer and get on with
their lives at the end of any movie.
1.30 → Carpeaux exhibition in the Luxembourg Palace
Museum.
Walking around and caught in the most all-embracing storm
– thunder, hail, snow and eventually, blue skies and sunshine.
2.30 A croque monsieur at the local café.
7.30 Car arrives to pick us up → Ron + Karen and → to
Champs Elysées for Ripley premiere. This is not a Green Mile
type movie. This one picks you up and tosses you around from
start to finish. Lack of Oscar nominations (or is it my
imagination?) means a quiet house and Ant and Matt & the rest
seem subdued.
11.30 Dinner at Fouquet’s on the Champs Elysées. The
food, apparently, was good. The ambience very red plush.
Somewhere in here is an agreement that a play will change
your life in a way that film never can.

17 February
1.30 [Le] Bristol – lunch with Anthony M., Matt Damon,
Carolyn, Max, Gabriel,6 Saul Zaentz.
Later – a whistle-stop tour of Malvolio with Max for his
NYT audition, & shopping with Carolyn.
7.20 American Beauty. Ron was right – the endings are all
too neatly contrived so that we can leave disturbed but at peace
with ourselves – hence the multiple Oscar nominations. All the
same – hats off to Sam Mendes. It is full of good stuff.

23 February
11 Car to Gare du Nord and the 12.19 train to Waterloo.
 7.30 Dublin Carol – Royal Court. The theatre is stunning. A
perfect balance of preservation, restoration and re-invention. It
makes one hungry to perform there again. The bar under
Sloane Square is a triumph and would be made perfect by the
until-now denied access to Sloane Square. It will happen. The
play is difficult to hear because Brian [Cox] insists on shouting
words for no apparent reason (unless it’s the feud he’s
conducting with Trevor Nunn which he tells us about
afterwards).

25 February
7.45 Dinner with Anna M[assey] & Uri [Andres] plus David
Hare & Nicole Farhi. Reminded again of how fond I am of
Anna & Uri. She for her impeccable manners salted with the
fruitiest swear words. And Uri is an inspiration and a lesson.
Courteous, kind, vulnerable with eyes that crinkle with
concentration, sympathy, total involvement when someone else
engages his attention. He’s curious.

27 February
4.45 Tea with Emma, Greg & Phyllida (briefly) to deliver the
dress bought for Gaia in Paris. Gaia already has the most
glorious personality – funny, quirky, quixotic creature. Talk of a
Tuscan adventure . . .
Home for the last half hour of Prince of Thieves which is on
BBC1 tonight. Soo many waters under so many bridges . . .

6 March
9am pick-up for 10.50 flight → COPENHAGEN.
From around 2pm–7pm working in the downtown studios
on Help! I’m A Fish.7
8pm Dinner in the ex-monastery. Great environment. Awful
food.

7 March
am (early) to 11. Thinking, reading, brooding. And eventually
leaning towards ‘No’ on Final Curtain.8 The idea, the personnel
are fine. Scene by scene needs more work. Will they get this?
Doubtful.
pm → Elsinore.9 The courtyard all that was open at 3.15 but
all rather special, really, in the wind, rain and absence of
tourists.

8 March
11.15 Pauline Dowd. Harley Street. More antibiotics, more
cream. I cannot escape the feeling that it’s all more to do with
giving things up, not sticking things on . . .

10 March
To Brightwell.10 The bathroom approaches its debut, its
unveiling, its renaissance. After lunch a trip to Do It All to find
floor tiles, fire extinguishers, smoke alarms.

12 March
12 To the cemetery w. David & Chris. Where have all the
potential flowers gone? (Has someone nicked the bulbs?)

14 March
9.15 Pick-up to Blue Studios, Old Compton Street, to start
recording Discovery Channel’s Patagonia Eco-Challenge.

17 March
6.30 John Wark down from Scotland for his second RADA
audition. As Sharman said, ‘a real actor’. And it’s true. I don’t
feel the same nervousness as with Christian & Arlene. John
knows where he’s going.

19 March
[Re Galaxy Quest]
12 Pick-up for drive to Heathrow and 2.15 flight to
Hamburg.
 Arrive at Vier Jahreszeiten – 4 Seasons – a beautiful suite
with a terrace looking at the lake and rust/orange roses in two
big vases. And some Veuve Clicquot. Like living in an
occasional cartoon.

20 March
9.45am Make-up and 10am start of interviews. Generally the
questions are much brighter than expected. A relief – it’s less
tiring when the answers are spontaneous rather than appear to
be. Lunch in the Hotel Grill and hello again to Sigourney. A
message on the machine at home from John Wark. He has got
in to RADA. So that’s 3 of them [from The Winter Guest] in
the business now . . .
Later to the Reeperbahn and the Dollhouse. All rather
tasteful and innocent. A hand delicately placed over the crotch
as the G-string slides down. Incredibly efficient take-overs by
dancers, clever lighting, good bodies, middle-class audience.

21 March
10am start. And through to about 1.15pm.
Lunch in the excellent Thai (sort of) restaurant in the
hotel . . .
2.50 Back to the grind. And when it’s over the familiar
sensations. The constant attempt to avoid bullshit, not to be
irritated by the labelling, say what you believe etc., etc. always
leaves me whacked and empty. Quite close to humiliated. And
as I do it I always forget the pay-off.
4.45 pick-up to Hamburg Airport and the 6.10(ish) flight to
London. Lufthansa . . . Later, at home, reading an old journal.
Stuff from 20 years ago. Scary. And also looking at excerpts
from Sylvia Plath’s journal. My old one is very pre-movies.
Pre-interviews and pre- those more recent books. Much more
naked. I can only hope that when I look again at the ’90s
volumes that I can remember the coded details and the sharp
thoughts hidden between the safer lines.
24 March
Dinner at the Bear. A long time since I’ve seen deep-fried Brie
or mushroom stroganoff. Almost expected to hear Steeleye
Span on the intercom.

28 March
Lunch w. Karen Moline11 at Dakota. She seems angrier at life
this time. And, as ever, hopelessly indiscreet. God forbid I ever
give her information I don’t want passed on . . .
8pm Royal Albert Hall for Sting concert. Nitin Sawhney
first. Or Knitting Sorbet as the guy at Door 9 calls him. In all
seriousness. Suzanne B. and I go to Box 25 which Trudie has
filled with food and drink. Perfect hostess as ever. The concert
(both halves) is really wonderful. Very moving, really, to hear
the sheer number of anthems that Sting has written over the
years. And still awake to the innovations of Nitin S.

29 March
8pm Dinner w. Suzanne, Nicky & Edna O’B. Edna the
phenomenon . . . Story after story. ‘If Pat Magee12 were here
now – he’s dead – if he were here now . . .’; ‘May I ask a trivial
little question about Juliet & Fiona . . .?’ But a lovely evening.
Which I look forward to reproducing in the country . . .

30 March
To RADA to see the new building . . . I can’t quite shake off
the feeling that too much has been smashed into too little
space, but at the moment it’s all grey cement and no light so it’s
unfair to speculate. In an ideal world and an ideal building the
rehearsal rooms would be bigger with higher ceilings, the
Vanbrugh stage would be deeper etc., etc.

1 April
11am To the Millennium Wheel. For a second time. This
could become a habit. I can imagine solo trips before long.
5 April
11.45 Dr Pauline Dowd. Mainly memorable this time for
finding a horoscope to purloin from the waiting room. It even
mentions clutter-clearing, which has been the word du jour for
a week now. (Karen Kingston’s brilliant book13 finally finished
last night.)
Almeida – Celebration/The Room [plays by Harold Pinter]. V.
enjoyable evening in all senses. First the pleasure of seeing
Lindsay, Susi,14 Andy [de la Tour] and Danny Dyer on stage
together and all very funny, esp. in Celebration, and Lindsay does
pull off The Room in spite of her worries. Harold and Antonia15
are also in – he had thought we were a bit quiet. It’s hard to
guffaw if you worry that the author won’t approve. Still
thinking about the plays and about how deep they actually bite,
but talking afterwards in good old Casale Franco when Andy &
Susi tell of Harold only directing the actor who is
speaking . . . Only underlines my belief that writers should not
direct their own work in the theatre.

11 April
7 Anna M. & Uri A., Eve Black & David Samuel for drinks
before dinner at Assaggi. This is something to do more of. Put
together a group of people who really have something to talk
about and basically listen and enjoy their mingling. David, the
brain chemist, Uri the physicist, Eve the Arts Administrator-
Marine Architect, Rima and Anna knowing something about
all of it. I enjoyed the noise.

12 April
→ LAKE COMO.
9.30 Car to Heathrow for flight to Milan, and on to Villa
D’Este at Lake Como. Here for the BBDO Ad Agency get-
together, bonding thing. Isaac Mizrahi16 and Ismail Merchant
have already spoken. Fairly terrified for a week now but having
finally got the opening paragraph, spent the plane ride and
then the early evening scribbling furiously and now have 17
pages.
5pm A drink in the bar with Ismail Merchant & Richard his
assistant. It’s always been a bit of a mystery why I’ve never
worked with this (extremely amiable) man. Now we all think
that.
Dinner in the Grill. Good food but on my top ten hate list
would be over-attentive waiters – I like watching my wine glass
get emptier. I am close to slapping the arm of the next waiter
who refills my glass after every sip.

13 April
To Regina Room to throw myself to the wolves. A speech I
was concerned may only last 10 mins actually ran 45 mins. You
can definitely feel the good bits and bad bits and with (now)
hindsight the bits I’d rewrite. Doubt whether references to
Thatcher went down well with an agency boss who was on
Reagan’s re-election team. Peter Souter – the UK boss –
extremely impressive and says ‘Don’t suppose we’d get you to
do something for us?’ Hmmm . . .

21 April
Clearing clutter . . .
Specifically a first go-round at Winter Guest papers. And you
think – How did this ever happen? How did it start? Look at all
the people who became part of it. And then it faded into the
past.
6pm Erin Brockovich at Whiteley’s.
Good for Soderbergh. A film that has gathered a huge
audience and that involves from the first frames. Full of
beautiful acting (Julia Roberts always underestimated anyway,
but here she gets her chance to show how in-the-moment she
is). Albert Finney and everyone – smaller parts brilliantly played
– clearly happy working with such [a] meticulous, observant,
subtle director. And it’s about something.
7 May
Watching Close My Eyes17 on Channel 4. Brings back all kinds
of memories of that hot summer and a vow to lose a stone. At
least. In spite of its list of implausibilities, the film still looks
good and makes the current crop of Britflicks look ridiculous.

10 May
Miranda Richardson visited late lunchtime with the mad dog
Liv. Who could hardly contain her excitement, and so didn’t.
20 mins later the house and garden resembled a rugby
pitch . . . Took an hour to find the door wedges . . .
3 To Jim Henson’s for a face mask. Third time for this weird
piece of sensory deprivation. And I feel the beginning of a
sense of panicked responsibility to learn the lines in time.
7 The Merchant of Venice, NT. Henry Goodman on another
planet (from most actors, but certainly from everyone else on
stage tonight). Every line is a thought contained in a body
which has a life. Every line is discovered. An acting lesson.

18 May
Breakfast at 106. Sara Sugarman18 sitting there and a chat later.
Her film [Very Annie Mary] opening in August – she’s now
thinking of moving to LA. And she’s one of the few people
who could take her own mix of ambition and anarchy and
bend LA to her will.

22 May
10.10am Pick-up to Pinewood.
Play, Samuel Beckett, with Kristin Scott Thomas and Juliet
Stevenson. Anthony Minghella directing us in our big pots.

24 May
6.10am pick-up.
 On set at 8.30ish after longish makeup. All of us terrified.
But because Anthony has a) done his homework, and b) is
receptive to what is going on around him – it becomes
properly organic and ‘found’.
Home at around 7.45pm.

25 May
6.15am pick-up.
Much less nervous-making. In 24 hours there’s a real feeling
of a team. Benoît,19 the DP, grins, and the sound recordist says
‘When I read this I didn’t know what it was all about but now I
think it’s amazing.’ Juliet is amazing. She’s doing a play by night
and still manages to be brilliantly ahead of the game in this.
Hats off.

26 May
6.15[am] pick-up.
Finished around 8pm. This has been a very special time.
Pushing the boundaries; testing resources against a great text;
knowing that a secure friendship means a relaxed honesty;
noticing how K.S.T.’s ‘froideur’ moves through insecurity to
quiet confidence in the course of 3 days; Juliet’s real strength.

2 June
11am Lyric, Hammersmith, for run-through of Ruby’s new
show.

4 June
12.13 Train back to London [from Brightwell-cum-Sotwell].
4pm Run-through of Peace Garden concert at Royal Opera
House. One of those extraordinary events. Trudie Styler
gathers quite a clan around her. As I arrive, Madonna is on
stage with an Egyptian band. Trudie trying to be organised but
the time is disappearing fast. Vanessa [Redgrave], Alan Bates,
Angharad Rees, Simon Callow, Lulu, Jimmy Nail, Bryan
Adams, Miranda Richardson, dancers, singers, monks, Can
Can dancers (Simon’s favourite sight – the monks watching the
Can Can). Somehow all these elements sort of gel and we
started 45 mins late. But the evening (especially the second
half, especially the singers & Vanessa) had some wonderful
moments and the audience, thankfully, was alive and warm –
not the dreaded mass humourless gathering of the Tory party.
Sights of T.S. [Trudie Styler] with her makeup & hair stylist,
v. expensive dresses and the food & drink afterwards gave pause
for a little thought . . .

5 June
11am To Emma & Greg’s to find Catherine Olim & Phyllida &
to go for a v. pleasant stroll around Hampstead and the Heath.
A sandwich in a side street, a glance in an estate agent’s
window (or rather a pause while Emma actually goes in and
gets details of a couple of properties – oh, you must come and
live in Hampstead – and indeed, the leafiness and elegant
mishmashery of it all is seductive . . .). Also a trip to the
refurbished Everyman Cinema. Great people running it and
superb circle seating. A Must Go.

12 June
Stay-at-home night.

13 June
5pm Lanesborough Hotel to meet Mike Binder [film director].
Mostly, I’m trying to figure out whether or not he dyes his
hair. Somewhere in there I’m meeting a gentle, determined,
honourable man.

18 June
6pm Royal Court for run-through(ish) for – Aung San Suu Kyi
benefit.
7.45 Show. Thanks to Philip Hedley’s20 brilliant sense of
balance and organisation it was genuinely enjoyable. Mark
Thomas (great), Richard W., David Hare, Glenda Jackson,
Miriam K[arlin], Tim [West] & Prunella [Scales], Kate
Williams,21 Fascinating A.;22 jiving Lindy Hoppers, Glenys &
Neil K. jiving together at the beginning of the evening before
Glenys’ terrific speech. Amazing woman in support of amazing
woman.

23 June
10.30 Car to Wicklow and Annette Carducci’s23 set.

26 June
9am Pick-up to Carlo Manzi [costume supplier] for second
fitting.

27 June
1pm Rehearse.

30 June
9.45 Voiceover to Chechnya documentary. Andrei Babitsky.
Reporter Extraordinary.

2 July
7am Pick-up. Day One. Gissing.24
A house in South Street, Mayfair. Lunch in Berkeley Square.
In and out of a front door with the Sultan of Brunei’s cook
slamming windows and yelling at having her Sunday disturbed.
Probably can’t blame her. But as Mike says, London is full of
eccentrics. (Just you wait . . .) Sonya25 gets it together
remarkably for someone cast on Friday.

11 July
9am Pick-up. And a day of tap-dancing. Figuratively in the
morning with Sonya’s stripping scene.
Literally pm with the roomful of tap dancers and the rest of
us crashing about in our suits, ties and cufflinks.

13 July
How did today turn into such a pain? How quickly I lose my
equanimity. Concentration becomes silence and at the end of
the evening I wind up standing in a corridor defending my
‘perfectionism’ to the beleaguered director.

26 July
7am pick-up.
Today was the day of Matthew [played by Mike Binder] &
Gissing throwing each other around the office – but, no real
rehearsal; crew watching; no stunt person – so, injured knee
which I discover at home later when it just won’t bend.
NB Harry Potter is offered . . .

6 August
7.45 pick-up for Scene 86. 5 page horror. Umpteen angles,
same speech over and over. Not finished at 9pm. Back
tomorrow. But in amongst the humidity and tiredness, some
welcome laughter with Caroline [Holdaway], Juliet
[Stevenson], Owen [Teale], Allan [Corduner].

8 August
1.30 Train to Stratford to see Mary McGowan and Sandra Voe
in Henry IV Part 2.
4pm To Mary’s house. She is furious at her sudden physical
decline. Utterly reliant on the Zimmer frame but of course still
the woman who says to a midnight drunk intruder (‘I was in
the kitchen, couldn’t sleep, reading Seamus Heaney’) – ‘Would
you like a chocolate?!’
7.30 Swan Theatre. Henry IV Part 2. Desperately middle of
the road production. High spots fudged → Hal’s rejection of
Falstaff is an anti-climax . . . W. Houston26 a charismatic
young actor who could easily just tread the pernicious water of
vanity.
10.43 Dinner at the Duck. A triumph of wheelchair
manipulation and Mary was having dinner at a place she ‘never
thought I’d see again’.

11 August
12.30 Pick-up to N1 Dance Studios to learn dance for
Sharleen’s27 video.
Wrap party for Gissing. Chinawhite’s. These things have to
be stage managed, otherwise people sit about moaning that it’s
no fun. Sadly, they have to be told how to create fun. Once they
had been herded out of the one penny-pinching room we had
been ascribed it all loosened up. But this film, although full of
crazy invention that might just survive, was never a model of
organisation . . .

12 August
8am Rima off to Heathrow and Tuscany. What the fuck am I
doing staying behind?

15 August
Talk to Paola a.m. and hear of Juliet’s brother.28 This is after
Fidelis’s29 tale of a drug-crazed, blood-stained break-in.
1pm Nick Kent comes by and we have lunch at his local
pub/restaurant/garden and then to his really beautiful flat. Not
so much Kensal Rise as Provence via Jamaica. Then a phone
call saying his godson has been arrested for snatching a bag . . .
5.30 Pick-up to the car park near Southwark Bridge for the
start of the Texas video. Drive-bys on the bridge before
heading off down the motorway via 20 bikers and finally
ending up in a dawn promenade walk in Brighton. Then to the
ghastly Thistle Hotel from 8am.
P.S. Somewhere in here spoke to Judy Hoflund about HP
and the usual negotiating shenanigans.

16 August
Sharleen fuming about the hotel (condom on the carpet last
night . . .). I point out that it will ready her for Poland on
Friday. We take off for Beachy Head at sunset.

17 August
During the night, more motorway drives, eventually fetching
up at the petrol station in Bordon (which I hadn’t previously
noticed). Called Claire and Amy [A.R.’s nieces] to say we were
coming but not until at least midnight.
Actually 1.30am. The rest of Texas gathers. They are a really
great bunch. Together for 14 years and still enjoying each
other, supporting each other. Sharleen clearly a powerhouse
but always checking for Johnny’s30 ironic, vulnerable eye.
We tango’d at 4.30–5.30am. Hard to connect brain and legs.
Back to London to put things in bags and generally get ready
for the off to Heathrow.
10.50 → ROME → Corrado driving me to Argiano. Judy
Daish solves the problem of getting him back by suggesting he
drive her hire car back. Perfetto. Can’t deal with Warner Bros
shenanigans. Plus there’s a Sesti extravaganza for Cosimo &
Paloma31 – fairy lights, dinner for 50, Tuscan choir, Keith sang,
I spoke some Berowne32 pushed by Sarah (the page flipped
open almost at the speech . . .) – a gorgeous evening, generous
souls singing to each other.

23 August
6.30 Pile into the car and drive to Siena to get to Il Campo
before dark. To the Patio Bar where, around 8pm, I called LA
and said OK to HP.
9ish Dinner at Le Logge.
Home at 3am.

24 August
Around the pool and feeling a bit nothing about HP which
really disturbs me – or is it because I’m reading Martin Amis’
Experience which charts A Life . . .
28 August
12.30 Collect Conor from Buonconvento station.
Lunch in Montalcino. Drive to Montepulciano to find Ant
M., Carolyn, Max plus Sydney Pollack & Bill Horberg [film
producer].

5 September
To local winemaker S. Palmucci. High above S. Antonio Abbey
– the most spectacular position. (Nearly rivalled by the 5 star
hotel currently being developed in a nearby 11th C. castle . . .)
& the most spectacular wines – his instructions to pickers was
an education in itself.
8pm Dinner in the house. Wonderful fresh gnocchi from
yesterday in the bread shop.

6 September
A day by the pool.
Talking to Judy – the bargaining goes on . . . (HP).
Lightning in the mountains.

10 September
Perfect day. Still, sunny. To the pool. Finish HP 1, start 2.
There’s no denying . . .

11 September
2pm Romano arrives and the goodbye is as swift and painless as
I can make it. Which is not swift and painless enough. This is
another way to live. And the Sestis know how to pull work and
pleasure together in the most passionate, blazing, sharing way.
Life is lived, worked and celebrated. And invented, daily.
Guided by nature.

21 September
HARRY P. TAKES OFF.
 10.30 Car to MBA for costume fitting/discussion.
Measurements from hell after a month in Italy. Waltz around
each other – higher collar? Blue fabric? Thinner arms? And off
to Leavesden Studios. Chris Columbus [director], David
Heyman [producer], Make-Up Dept. waiting. Wig? Nose?
Discussion and a look at some of the sets and special effects.
3.05 Heathrow to LAX. Dinner at Lily’s, Venice, & back to
the Peninsula.

23 September
Bruce Willis tribute, American Cinematheque. 12.45 Lunch at
Beverly Hilton and rehearse entrances. Mad afternoon trying to
find a pair of shoes.
6.30 pick-up to Beverly Hilton. Red carpet gauntlet and
into Green Room. Bruce comes in to say hi. The show is fine
and the audience laughs.
Drink at Peninsula w. Louise Krakower, Cate Blanchett, her
hairdresser Manny. There is instant rapport with Miss B. What
will the future bring?

27 September
2.45 Arrive Heathrow.
6.30 Car → Belinda and on to Empire Leicester Square for
premiere of Billy Elliot. This is what happens when the
distributors and press get behind a film . . . Jamie Bell is quite
wonderful – not a sentimental second in his performance. The
film is Stephen Daldry at his most calculating → it is almost as
if he has fed the requirements into a computer. The film could
have been beautiful but its cynical use of the miners’ strike
added to a long list of untruths (the boy in the dress, the
snowman, the brother’s change of heart) make the newspaper
headlines – ‘The Best British Film Ever’ – an insult to Losey,
Schlesinger, Anderson, Dean, Powell & Pressburger, Newell,
Minghella, McKinnon and the rest.

6 October
First conversation w. Joanne Rowling. Her sister answers –
‘She’s not here – can I leave a message?’ Cackling in the
background . . . ‘Sorry about that! . . .’ ‘There are things that
only Snape & you know – I need to know . . .’ ‘You’re right –
call me tomorrow; no one else knows these things . . .’

7 October
Talk to Joanne Rowling again and she nervously lets me in on
a few glimpses of Snape’s background. Talking to her is talking
to someone who lives these stories, not invents them. She’s a
channel – bubbling over with ‘Well, when he was young, you
see, this that and the other happened’ – never ‘I wanted so &
so . . .’

8 October
2pm Ruby, Ed & kids → Harbour Club. One of Max’s friends
is an indication of what’s to come. ‘Are you Snape?’

10 October
HARRY POTTER BEGINS.
8.30 Car to MBA for 9am fitting.
11am Kings X for train to Newcastle, and then car to
Alnwick Castle and a (3 hour . . .) make-up for camera test.
Criss-crossing of pluses and minuses – pale face = v. ageing;
false nose-piece needs heavy make-up etc. General atmosphere
is friendly and a mite chaotic.
7.45 To the tapas restaurant with Sean [Biggerstaff] and
Robbie Coltrane for many plates of deep-fried indulgences
before going back to the hotel for some red wine and a bag of
chocolates from the mini-bar.
Hopeless . . .
And still awake. TV on, writing this at 3am. Jet lag keeps
nipping at the ankles.
 Finished Actors, Conor McPh. script. V. superior comedy.
Very not PC. Actors are idiots and script peppered with ‘cunt’.

12 October
am Call from Judy in LA which stills the roundabout for a
while. Present needs, other people’s requirements, destiny, that
stuff . . .
12.30 pick-up to the set and putting Snape together.
Ultimate result – tighter arms, legs, waist, bluer hair, no contact
lenses. But Snape seems to live.

13 October
10.30 pick-up. Make-up – I may need valium . . . Costume.

27 October
11 Angel’s – fitting for Victoria Wood Show.

20 November
7.30 pick-up. Victoria Wood Christmas Show.

28 November
7pm Leila Bertrand & car and → Madonna concert w. Sharleen
Spiteri and Richard Ashworth.
Back home, a call from Jim Kennedy and – WE HAVE
EXCHANGED!33

30 November
12.30 British Council for Helena K.’s lunch for Mary McAleese
– President of Ireland. Other guests – Greg Dyke, Cherie
Booth.

5 December
To Harrods for the 10% browse or, in this case, purchase of
refrigerator.
6 December
8 Madame Melville – Vaudeville. This was a delight. Delicate,
shaded comedy of a rare kind and beautifully directed by the
author, Richard Nelson. Irène [Jacob] is quite wonderful and
Macaulay Culkin is, as they have said, brilliantly cast.
Later Orso. Mr Culkin is extremely bright, aware of himself
and his situation in a touchingly courageous way. ‘I was
expecting to get slaughtered so I had nothing to lose . . .’

7 December
12 To 38WT [Westbourne Terrace] w. Caroline [Holdaway].
Which turns into something traumatic during the day.
Caroline’s eye is definitely beadier than mine and by the time
she leaves she has depressed me somewhat.
Caroline is right – get the basics right before moving in. Her
basics are going to cost a bit of a bomb, however, so we shall
see . . .

8 December
10ish The Ivy. It gets noisier & noisier, some of the food was
cold, its days may be numbered . . . Jerry Hall & Mick Jagger
there and we chatted (difficult in that decibel-level) as they left.

11 December
7am pick-up. Back to Harry P. The Great Hall with Maggie
Smith, Zoë Wanamaker, Ian Hart, Richard Harris – all in their
ways sweet, funny souls. But this is Tick Off The Shots filming
– no big speech about the scene and what we’re all thinking.
Maybe there isn’t time . . . Maybe . . . Too many people
involved in the decisions. A hat has been made for Snape. A
hat? For Snape? Fortunately Chris Columbus is also a sweet,
funny soul and you kind of guess what he’s thinking, what he
wants. Certainly if you step outside that he’s in sharpish. So it
gets done. And it all looks just fine.

12 December
Here’s hoping that the intense thought processes are making it
on to film . . .

14 December
10.30 pick-up. Hogwarts singalong.

15 December
More Great Hall. More turkey. More Hogwarts song.

18 December
Troll in the bathroom day.

20 December
The first faxed estimates for the work at Westbourne
Terrace . . .

22 December
Stay-at-home evening. Is this a flu I see before me?
Talk to Judy about the Harry Potter deal memo which is
unsignable.

24 December
4–7 Helena K. & Iain H. Reggie N[adelson, American writer]
talks of meeting Clinton on the Portobello Road and advising
Hillary of knockdown cashmere prices. ‘You’re talking my
language,’ says Hillary. Reggie moves ‘like Linford Christie’ to
meet them in said shop.
12 Midnight service at All Saints.

25 December
3 Mary Elizabeth and Pat. A lovely day with the O’Connors.
Food, music, children . . . Late-night thoughts are all of
moving towards an alcohol-free month . . .

29 December
7.45 Edna O’Brien. In 4 hours or so Edna tells us tale after tale
of Beckett, Pinter – ‘When I see him on Monday he will say
immediately “You have seen The Caretaker, of course” – “No, I
have been away” – “Well, then you have seen Betrayal.” The
trouble is writers write from pain and Harold has closed up all
his wounds, so all he can write now are these small things.’

31 December
David + Christine plus family minus Michael. Show on the
roads, horses in the stables.
8.30 Pam & Mel Smith. A lovely way to end a year. Friends,
fireworks and singing Beatles, Elton John, Billy Joel songs
around the piano.
1
English actor (1934–2004)
2
English actor (1966–)
3
French director and screenwriter
4
Australian-born British theatrical agent (1908–1991)
5
English actor (1944–)
6
Lebanese-French composer Gabriel Yared (1949–). He was nominated for an
Academy Award for The Talented Mr Ripley.
7
Animated movie in which A.R. voiced a character called Joe
8
Released in 2002, directed by Patrick Harkins and starring Peter O’Toole
9
The setting for Hamlet
10
Brightwell-cum-Sotwell, a village in Oxfordshire. A.R. and Rima bought a house
there for Rima’s sister, Francesca.
11
American writer and journalist
12
Irish actor Patrick Magee (1922–1982)
13
Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui
14
Susan Wooldridge, British actor (1950–)
15
British writer Antonia Fraser (1932–), wife of Harold Pinter
16
American fashion designer
17
1991 film directed by Stephen Poliakoff in which A.R. starred alongside Clive
Owen and Saskia Reeves
18
Welsh actor (1962–)
19
Benoît Delhomme, French cinematographer
20
British film director (1938–)
21
British actor (1941–)
22
Fascinating Aïda, British comedy singing group
23
French film director (1942–)
24
The Search for John Gissing, directed by Mike Binder
25
Sonya Walger, British-American actor (1974–)
26
English actor William Houston (1968–)
27
Sharleen Spiteri (1967–), lead singer of Scottish band Texas
28
Juliet Stevenson’s brother Johnny had been killed in a car accident.
29
English actor Fidelis Morgan (1962–)
30
Johnny McElhone (1963–), bass guitarist
31
Cosimo and Paloma Sesti, architects who helped make livable the house A.R. and
Rima bought in Campagnatico.
32
From Love’s Labour’s Lost
33
Re Westbourne Terrace
 2001
A NEW HOME – HARRY POTTER – JOHN DIAMOND
– NEW YORK – TOM STOPPARD – DUBLIN –
DERWENTWATER PRIMARY SCHOOL – SEBASTIAN
BARRY – TOM JONES – MEL SMITH – TUSCANY –
PALIO, SIENA – 9/11 – MARY McGOWAN – PRIVATE
LIVES – LINDSAY DUNCAN – HARRY POTTER
PREMIERE – BILL CLINTON – RIK MAYALL

1 January
And closing the 2000 diary, noting how this has become more
of a notebook, even has a few blank pages . . . Good? Bad? I’m
becoming more self-conscious? More closed?

4 January
NEW HOME – DAY ONE. WE COMPLETE.
6pm to 38 Westbourne Terrace to collect the keys.

5 January
To 38WT to meet Caroline. I can feel the cheques flying out
of the cheque book. It’s still a beautiful space but it needs
attention.

9 January
Harry Potter. 10.30 pick-up. Back to school for the January
term.

2 February
7.30 The Graduate to see Jerry Hall.
She is an amazing woman. Onstage you get hints of the
offstage warmth.

7 February
First alarming cheque goes off to Caroline. Echoes of 12UA.

13 February
Standby from 11am.
Fits and starts. Comings and goings. Somewhere in here I’m
not shooting today, so the day becomes a walking to and fro
tour of Bath.
4.45 Pick-up to rehearse the Classroom Scene. Which has a
shape thanks to grabbing a bit of rehearsal yesterday.

14 February
8am pick-up.
This scene put me into a concentration/exclusion zone that
I recognise and don’t like. It leaves innocent people (make-up,
the kids) outside not daring to speak through the wall. But
then I decided to get pissed off about the trailers again. This
English class system in all areas. Who even wants to think about
it?
Was the scene OK? Or was I pressing familiar buttons?

19 February
Last day on HP.
At the end of the day Hedwig the owl flies the length of the
Great Hall and drops the Nimbus 2000 in Harry’s lap. Dave,
the trainer, hadn’t slept worrying about it all. Simple, amazing
things.

4 March
To John Diamond’s1 funeral service at Kensal Green.
Helena Kennedy suggested we come. I wasn’t sure, once
there. It seemed like such a definite, if wide, circle of friends.
But it was a calm, orderly, unsentimental service. Which is not
to say it wasn’t terribly moving. Dominic Lawson2 read from
John’s last written words, some of which were very funny but
the reference to how he and Nigella ‘made each other what
they were’ struck home. She was looking jaw-droppingly
beautiful, smiling and nodding as the crowd filed past. John’s
friend Charles Elton told of the sadness but hilarity in the room
as John was in his last hours. Outside a woman was singing
‘people who need people’ ‘and heaven, I’m in heaven’. It was
like a cue for him to reach for his pen.

5 March
Today Ruby and I were all over the papers (from yesterday), I
was a question on The Weakest Link, the top voice to go to
sleep by, and quoted in the trades re Ang Lee. Something’s
afoot . . .

28 March
NEW YORK.
1.30 La Goulue – Natasha. Her mind is like a collection of
animals kitten to viper but all alive and kicking. If only she
could lose the anger but who can blame her? She talks of
Private Lives with Ralph Fiennes. Back at the hotel a message
from London talking of – Private Lives. With Lindsay
Duncan . . .

29 March
6.45 Invention of Love. Sitting across the aisle from Tom
Stoppard is a bit worrying given jet lag in the dark but
although I understood a third of the play it was very moving
and Bob [Crowley, set designer] did a great job.
Party in the Hudson Theatre. Ms Paltrow walked in on
castors . . .

2 April
6am pick-up for 8.25 → London.
Home around 9pm.

5 April
The first big Premium Bond!

26 April
10.40 → Dublin.
Extremely pleasant suite at the Clarence Hotel with a
balcony and view up and down the length of the Liffey.
pm Working w. Alison Deegan3 [on A Little Chaos].
Sometimes a breeze, sometimes like pulling teeth. But her
stubbornness is valid – why give in until you understand? And
occasionally we crash through to an unpredicted something.

2 May
4pm Derwentwater School4 – what a nostalgia trip. The old
junior school indeed . . . And so much of it glued to the
memory box. Strangely, it doesn’t even seem smaller. Acutely
detailed picture of Miss Kendall in her classroom. Her presence,
her glasses, her hair – her habit of using handcream after lunch.
Her incredibly white hands.

3 May
The Royal Court. A day’s rehearsal of Plasticine.
A day and a half for this 33 scene, 33 character play. Well,
screenplay. Somewhere between Trainspotting and Shopping and
Fucking. But with a heart and mind of its own. Vassily5 is from
Aids-ridden industrial Urals, and this is about his life, his town,
his country – where simple acts of kinds of kindness are
misunderstood and greeted with abuse.

4 May
4pm Reading.
Heroic stuff from the cast in front of a full house.

8 May
Paul Lyon-Maris tells me that the Abbey/out of joint/Sebastian
Barry concerted worry is that they are second to Private Lives!
The Abbey wants to stick to the original dates, which conflict
with HP 2, which won’t declare itself . . . Here we go . . .
pm Talking to Sebastian Barry who is a little more relaxed
than I thought he might be, but somewhere in here, of course,
he needs the money.

14 May
The dreaded Cannes trip is avoided.

26 May
12 → Hay-on-Wye.
6pm – ish. Reception. Meeting Germaine Greer. Every
question, every sentence is a gauntlet? Exhausting after 5 mins.
8.30 Clinton Lecture. World events domesticised. Made
Chekhovian, in a way. ‘Arafat wanted to take his gun into the
meeting.’ (‘Never happened’ mutters Chris Hitchens behind
me), and when Ian – interlocutor – doesn’t please him, it’s ‘Ask
a bland question, get a bland answer.’ Except that it then
wasn’t . . . particularly when it hit the Middle East. Anyway
C.H. left early loudly opining that ‘there wouldn’t be any drink
left . . .’

1 June
Agree to do Amnesty concert on Sunday with Eddie Izzard.

3 June
4pm Wembley Arena. To Eddie’s dressing room and then a
rehearsal with Vic Reeves & Harry Enfield (for the Monty
Python sketch ‘The Four Yorkshiremen’). Then on to the stage
to run it through and the first sight of that space . . .
7.30 The show. Which goes brilliantly. We have to wait until
nearly 11. It is like strolling out on to the scaffold, my script
securely taped inside a Sunday Times Magazine. The others are
wonderful and v. funny. I’m too nervous to corpse. I just stare
at them. After, in the bar, talking to Tom Jones. He quotes
Dustin Hoffman saying to him ‘It’s like you open your mouth
and an animal comes out.’

7 June
ELECTION DAY.
10.45 To Jon Snow’s house. Michael Foot there. A lonely
figure, victim of Parkinson’s, but still caught up in it all.

8 June
4am to bed.
1pm Ian McKellen – lunch in the utterly remodelled 82
Narrow Street . . . Ian talks about the National Theatre’s
amazingly blinkered approach to choosing a new artistic
director and of the prejudice against Jude Kelly.6

13 June
6.30 One Parent Family launch at Jo Rowling’s house.
Robbie C., Neil Pearson there plus Meera Syal, Kathy Lette.
And Jo Rowling. Who is witty (of course) at the microphone
and warm & vulnerable to meet. The house needs the Caroline
Holdaway touch to get it finished.

16 June
Mel Smith’s 50th. Not. As we found out on arriving and
swiftly hid the present. Pam’s 53rd.
From then on the usual frenetic mix. Fireworks and Mel
playing Petula Clark to Richard O’Brien while Hugh Grant
and Patsy Kensit arrive uninvited. Pam, God bless her, remains
unimpressed by anything and 2 seconds after our arrival says,
‘I’ve had a facelift – want to see the photos?’

12 July
2.30 RADA Council.
 Could be paranoia, but I begin to feel pressure to write a big
cheque. Cannot explain to them this is not possible or that I
have the builders in.

17 July
10 Wallingford – Farmers’ Market.
Getting out of the taxi in the town square as the full pig is
roasting and the bacon is spitting and the ham is being sliced
and the English wine is being poured – all on the same day as
Vote 2 for the leader of the Tory Party and the knowledge that
they are going down the IDS7 route leaves one with, as they
say, a particularly nasty taste in the mouth.

1 August
2.05 BA → Rome.

4 August
Today’s marked and controlled by silent brick walls, impasses.
Although it’s the same old story, there’s a danger of real
damage.
Reading Private Lives doesn’t help – indulgent, half-mad
creatures that they are.
Pool. Lunch.

10 August
To the Montalcino Market.
A nasty little prod from the Guardian lurks in the cappuccino
stop. Why is it all triumphs and tragedies with British
journalists? What’s so wrong with experiment or then, dare we
breathe it, failure? It’s beyond schadenfreude, it’s as if as a nation
we are only happy facing negativity. It’s our national security
blanket. What did you expect? What did I tell you? There,
there; you won’t feel the benefit; you did your best; never
mind; take care, now.
16 August
Palio day.
An hour by the pool and then
12am → SIENA and lunch at Le Logge . . . Then to
Colombina (Francesca) and her beautiful apartment with its
windows on to Il Campo and as it happened right above the
starting line. A fantastic view from 4.30 until 7.15 and the start
of the race. The bands, flags, horses, all the time the crowd
funnelling into the Campo until the words ‘sea of people’
actually meant something . . . Typically I missed the start by
looking through some binoculars but the race itself is a fantastic
sight. As is the whole day . . . After dinner we repaired to the
Campo for drinks and people watching. Then through the
winning Drago district to the car & my turn to drive home.

21 August
2.30 Drive to Rome.
6.45 → London.

22 August
12 and a message from John McGowan saying that Mary has
died. In her own favourite word a great woman. Her death is a
real loss because she was always levelled, focused and inspired.
Cigarettes and wine glass always on the go, umpteen books
open, only filled with life and frustrated by being an ‘old
wreck’. She was, of course, ageless to us.

7 September
7.45 Cab to Euston, 8.40 train to Coventry, cab to Stratford
and (eventually) St Gregory’s Church for Mary McGowan’s
funeral. Juliet and Hugh there as we arrive and Fifi already
inside. Atrocious address by the priest, and the usual
interminable mass, but a beautiful, clear and heartfelt eulogy
from John, Mary’s son.
12.15 Drive back with Fifi.
 2.30 Rehearsal.

9 September
8 Michael & Sandra Kamen w. Greg – choreographer.
Somehow (by a direct question from Rima really) it becomes
an open fact that Michael has MS.

10 September
pm is weird. First a phone call from Jane L. who keeps asking
‘I’m not being aggressive, am I? I’ve got to tell the hospital if I
am.’ She basically delivers a monologue about what lousy
friends we all are considering what she has been through/is
going through, and eventually puts the phone down without
saying goodbye. I wrote her a letter saying she was right. She is.
But she’s also isolating herself proudly but dangerously.
Then water started dripping from the ceiling via Gilly’s
[upstairs neighbour] shower. Jimmy appeared with a mop.

11 September
New York Trade Center Attack.
11.30 Rehearse. Run Act 1.
As the dance rehearsal [for Private Lives] is about to begin the
first report from New York comes into the rehearsal room.
Total shock. All rehearsal becomes an acute, flattening
irrelevance but we do it anyway whilst the mind is in limbo.
Eventually back home at 7.30 and just watch it over and over
on TV as if to imprint it on the brain, the psyche, the life
really . . . That plane was like watching a knife go into butter.

14 September
11am – 3 minutes’ silence which we shared with Kiss Me Kate
cast in their adjacent rehearsal room.
Supper at home. Watching more coverage. Still trying to
understand something. Cannot remove the fact of 4 million
starving in Afghanistan not to mention the innocents in Iraq.
There is such political naivety in the US that it only takes one
image of five Palestinians dancing in the street to obliterate the
bigger picture.

21 September
8pm First preview.
‘This is like drama school,’ said Lindsay somewhere in this
long day. Somehow, from somewhere reserves are . . . tapped
and we get through to huge laughter and applause. Howard
[Davies] is glowing with a real pride in actors’ courage. He
loves actors and takes real pleasure in watching them flex
muscles and imaginations – it’s incredibly touching when a
director shows their vulnerability in that way.

25 September
Tonight’s audience feels wild and almost out of order. They
want to laugh at every line.
In Sheekey’s champagne is sent to Nick Hytner – it’s official
– he’s the new NT supremo.

28 September
The show is full of good things – mainly from a lighter, flirtier
Lindsay.

2 October
The show is Tuesday Bizarre. Lindsay takes Amanda8 into a
scarily downmarket area during Act 1. I shouldn’t say anything,
but do . . . Act 2 is back on track. The thing is – this play
doesn’t work unless we’re talking to each other. As soon as one
of us does a number we’re in all sorts of trouble.

3 October
9.15 Dr Reid to activate MRI scan re BUPA. Talk of removal
of sebaceous cyst & cardiology checks.
10.30 Lister Hospital MRI scan of Rima’s knee. 20 mins in
the machine listening to my choice from the music on offer –
Breakfast Baroque.
Shopping for first-night gifts.
3.30 Rehearse.
8pm Packed house and they’re off the leash from the word
go. A bit of control-freakery from the word go.

4 October
Press night. Which goes, seriously, as well as you could expect.
Howard rightly warned us of First Night Froideur – people
scrutinising or too nervous to support too loudly – and we
clamped together as a company and DID THE PLAY. Which is
all I ever wanted to do.

5 October
In order to avoid the phone take a dazed (not enough sleep –
again) walk to 38WT with coffee and muffin in hand.
Back home and there’s enough information to know that it’s
2 for and one against at this point. God, how I hate their
agendas. 2/3 of their reviews are written before they enter the
theatre.

7 October
Paul Lyon-Maris calls and says the reviews are great. So that
strange narrative is played out and we can get on with the run
with an official stamp.

10 October
Show remarkable for inane laughter from person in the front
row . . . Witless, joyless sound that dangerously silences or
dilutes the rest of the audience.

21 October
Dinner in Sheekey’s with Anna & Uri who are so generous
about the show. Given that Anna had said she hated the play,
the characters, what they stood for etc. – it’s a real accolade.
Plus it had been a defining image in rehearsals. To make Anna
care . . .

23 October
David Heyman calls to tell me how brilliant I am in HP . . . At
home, faxes about the press junket which is huge and
impossible. The D.H. phone call was, of course, a
coincidence . . .

4 November
6.30 HARRY POTTER PREMIERE.
The film should only be seen on a big screen. It acquires a
scale and depth that matches the hideous score by John
Williams. Party afterwards at the Savoy is much more fun.

6 November
66 Harley Street for the beginning of the heart check . . . I like
this doctor.
pm On the way in and the E. Standard nominates Howard,
Lindsay and I.

23 November
8pm Show. Which is more or less trouble-free apart from the
wilder elements in the front row. And then the dressing room is
like a pub → Kevin Spacey plus friend. The former wearing
the backward facing baseball cap.

26 November
11.15 55 Wimpole Street – Blood Test.
11.30 66 Harley Street – Heart monitor (24 hours).
12.45 Savoy Hotel, Evening Standard Awards.

27 November
2pm 66 Harley Street. Treadmill and ultrasound.
4 December
2pm 66 Harley Street. Rodney Foale9 (I like him) and the
results of all the heart checks. All is fine apart from one sheet
showing high blood pressure and meaning less red wine late at
night.

5 December
8pm Show. Charles and Camilla in. The snake is called Charles
and the first scene is all about Diana. Of course . . .

15 December
Sheekey’s. In a day of memorable moments . . . it was capped
by having Bill Clinton come over to our table to say hello. I say
‘Mr President’ to remind myself that he was that rather than
another actor, the maître d’ . . .

19 December
Show. From the start Rik Mayall was a big part of the evening.
His wonderful, uncontrolled, joyous laugh led the audience and
terrified us. But we clawed the evening back.
1
English journalist (1953–2001), married to Nigella Lawson
2
J.D.’s brother-in-law
3
Irish actor, writer and printmaker, wife of novelist Sebastian Barry
4
A.R.’s primary school
5
Vassily Sigarev (1977–), Russian playwright
6
British theatre director (1954–)
7
Iain Duncan Smith (1954–), Leader of the Conservative Party 2001–2003
8
L.D.’s character
9
Cardiologist
 2002
HARRY POTTER – CAPE TOWN – MIRIAM
MARGOLYES – WESTBOURNE TERRACE – PRIVATE
LIVES, NEW YORK – TONY NOMINATIONS – LIAM
NEESON, NATASHA RICHARDSON, MERYL STREEP
– CHARLIE ROSE – CHER – PAUL NEWMAN, JOANNE
WOODWARD – HUGH CRUTTWELL – LOVE
ACTUALLY – COLDPLAY – KATRIN CARTLIDGE –
HARRY POTTER NO MORE? – ROME – JOHNNY
HALLYDAY – DON McCULLIN – TRUDIE STYLER
AND STING

2 January
1.30 Dentist. By some miracle there isn’t too much to do
considering it’s been four years.

8 January
2 Queen Mary’s, Roehampton, to see Hugh Cruttwell1 who,
as ever, makes one ashamed of ever complaining about
anything. Now paralysed down one side and sight affected but
brain as sharp as tacks and heart as unaffected as ever. God bless
him.

9 January
2 Dentist. Bleaching. Ouch.
4 Refit the Harry P. costume. A bit of taking in is necessary.

10 January
Dinner with the glorious Tony Benn plus his daughter Melissa,
Saffron Burrows and Mike Figgis. Mike hadn’t seen the show
(had to picture me in a Noël Coward play, somehow).

11 January
8 Show. A disturbance in the audience – loud noises, rustling
etc. was fairly alarming at the start of Act 2. Both of us
thinking it’s a madman or drunk but it settled . . . We
discovered later, to our chastened spirits, that it was a diabetic
having an attack and relatives ramming crisps in her mouth.

14 January
Harry Potter 2.
6.50am pick-up (Snape’s study)
(except, of course, writing this with the Sunday wide awake
at 2am thing)
Nice to see them all again but it’s a dreamlike thing, as if it
has never stopped. And in a way, it hasn’t – and won’t . . .
Richard Harris is enveloped in flu – a cue for Maggie Smith
to encase her face in a scarf. Through the day little chats about
Private Lives, although it felt like trespassing. ‘That’s when Bob2
was at his maddest.’ ‘It’s wonderful stuff, though.’
Mindblowing exhaustion by the end of the day. Somehow 1
hour’s sleep is not quite enough.
Back to the hotel for a club sandwich, chips, red wine,
Ground Force3 and bed.

18 January
6.50 pick-up.
Olivier Award nominations are in the Guardian. Lindsay
(twice), Adam [Godley], Emma [Fielding] & I are all there
(plus Howard) but these things (part experience, part common
sense) are actually rather depressing. So many agendas, so much
baggage. Where’s Lepage, Deborah W[arner], Fiona? Does it
mean don’t offend, challenge, upset? Mnemonic seems to be
award-free too . . .

21 January
9.15 pick-up → Harry Potter.
 Made up and ready to go – for a day off camera.
Nothing matters really after the images of the volcano in
Goma. People picking their way across potentially deadly lava
to get to homes that no longer exist.

23 January
Sharleen’s Burns Night. Much piping and dancing and kilts &
tartan – Sharleen, Pat Doyle, Bill Forsyth, Ewan McGregor,
haggis, cranachan, as Emma and me go in.

25 January
8 Show – Coughers from Hell.

28 January
8am pick-up → Paddington.
8.57 → Gloucester.
On the set (Gloucester Cathedral, that is) we block a couple
of scenes and go back to the hotel after lunch (the tent feeling
as if it’s going to take off in the wind). Emma Watson is unwell
so there’s nothing we can shoot.
7 Down the bar to find Maggie S. reading. Ken Branagh
joins later and having had Maggie on Cher we are howling at
stories of directing de Niro – or first, casting him.4

31 January
Rima’s birthday. It’s a long time since we’ve been together on
Jan 31st.

2 February
8pm Lindsay has been throwing up and looks v. pale. The
curtain-up is delayed. The audience seems drugged.
after – Kate Winslet & friend Plaxie . . . then to
Sheekey’s . . . I think I delivered a somewhat sanctimonious
lecture about curiosity V. certainty but then Kate did spend the
evening announcing verdicts on everything from ex-husband to
George Bush.

17 February
12 David, Chris, Sheila & John – after they’ve been to the
cemetery. Hard to restrain my irritation at S. & J.’s habit of
thinking that their girls are still somewhere around 10 years old
but resist it I should . . .
4pm Show.
A woman in the front row is very busy with her bag of
sweets.

20 February
Booked Cape Town trip.

21 February
And it’s my 56th birthday – how the hell did that happen?

2 March
3pm Show. Jules5 finding it very difficult to say anything more
than how odd it all was. Understandable but sad that she
couldn’t be generous towards Lindsay. What is the point?

3 March
4pm Show. The last show in London. Wonderful that Hugh
[Cruttwell] made it. But the show was hanging on to its
coattails. Either the head or the body was in the process of
going on holiday, or walkabout. Somewhere else, anyway.
8 Sheekey’s. Champagne & supper courtesy of Sheekey’s
themselves.

5 March
7am Cromwell Hospital for orthoscopy on knee. Writing this,
still a bit under the anaesthetic. Ivor Slee, the anaesthetist, said
(or was it Peter Braid, the surgeon) you won’t remember
anything about it. True. The whole thing seemed to have taken
30 seconds.
First Conor then Rima come to visit the invalid.

6 March
Woke at 6am. Just for a change. But this 24 hours has been
good for script-wading. The knee is pretty painful but will
doubtless improve.
Hobble, limp to a car at around 11am after the general all-
clear. My instructions are a little contradictory – walk on it,
don’t use a crutch or stick, rest it, use ice-packs.

8 March
Watched Gosford Park. There it is – the script perfectly realised
on the screen. And I felt seriously detached. Maybe it’s a
problem when you don’t really care about any of the characters.
Because try as he might Robert Altman can’t make us see the
story through the servants’ eyes. The upper classes will always
stop that. That’s the point.

15 March
5pm → Cape Town.

16 March
The day spent in various poses of complete exhaustion – part
no sleep, part present neuroses, part past recriminations . . . But
the body knows this is A Rest and so it happily caves in.

24 March
Waking to more thoughts of how, when, where of having a
house here. Made more appealing by the fact that the wind has
gone and it’s a sunny morning with a calm come-hithery sea.
Maybe it’s not such a good idea. How often would we get
here? Others would use it, of course, but looking after it?
 One of the houses Anna Marie shows us is Christiaan
Barnard’s. I didn’t know he had died. Strange wandering
around his home – photos of son and families intact. As we
drive away A.-M. tells sad stories of divorce and aloneness.

26 March
To the Pringle Bay Bakery for milk and papers and Oscar
winners – it all looks a bit PC to me. A miracle that Denzel
Washington mentioned anyone but himself – and there you
have it. Awards. For actors. Hours of free TV and some
designers pushing their frocks.

30 March
Went for an 8am walk along the beach in glorious morning
sunshine, a few mad surfers already in the water for the past
hour. Some walkers, some dogs. Back to the house to pack,
clear up, cook breakfast. Ate on the verandah, the bacon, eggs,
tomatoes, orange juice just lasting the weekend.
As I was cleaning the verandah, a sudden whoosh and a
baboon was on the balustrade and then the roof, family
members following. A swift door close and minutes later the
whole family was next door. I like to think they’d come to say
farewell, but suspect the smell of bacon was the culprit.
5pm → Johannesburg.
8.45 → London.

2 April
7.15 pick-up – HP.
Up in the Quidditch tower with Miriam Margolyes (about
to be OBE and 20lbs lighter – as she tells me in her fairly
inimitable way) and Jason Isaacs – who has just become a dad
for the first time. The usual nodding-heads-at-numbers scene
but quicker this time and we’re out of there by lunchtime.
Which means I can get to 38WT.
 Home for supper and more sorting, rationalising. Finding
out how much STUFF I’m surrounded by . . .

5 April
Pack day.
Nigel, Scott and Paul from GB Liners6 arrive at 8.30am and
swing into action. Paper flying, boxes snapping into being all
day, a life packed away for a 5 minute drive tomorrow.
Paul says about 10 mins in ‘I’m sorry if I keep staring – I’m a
bit in awe.’ It takes me a while to catch on. And then it takes
him a minute to catch on that he’s staring at someone frazzled,
dusty and ordinary.

6 April
THE MOVE.
How could anyone collect all this stuff? Or want it?
The inevitable walk round – 13 years and a flood of warm
images. A flat full of love and very much loved back.
Sleeping at 38WT for the first time. Of course, in the same
way that 44 has been punishing us with warped locks etc. over
the past few days, now 38 is testing us – no heat and an alarm
that beeps gently every 30 seconds.

7 April
1pm The family.
God bless them. Not an ounce of resentment – just
wandering around smiling.

8 April
Christchurch, Oxford.
Last day on Harry Potter 2.
David Heyman says ‘Are you still doing the play?’ with his
usual charming lack of command of the odd detail. Talk of
directors for HP 3 reveals that Alfonso7 is David’s choice while
Chris favours Ken B. I can only sit & stare.

9 April
It is a great apartment to wake up in – especially when the
alarm isn’t going off every 30 secs.
6ish and there’s a potential flood in the utility room.
7.30 38WT – Wet the new flat’s head.

11 April
1.25 → New York.
Watching The Deep End on the plane. Everything Dark
Harbor was meant to be. Tilda [Swinton] amazingly focused and
graded performance in a script that must look awful on the
page (to continuing mystery of film . . .). Style over content in
a way but somehow miraculously more than that.

12 April
New York.
Realising I left a bunch of clothes in London . . .

18 April
12.30 To the theatre.
7.30 Dress rehearsal.8

19 April
1pm To the theatre via Bed Bath & Beyond for more curtains
and wicker boxes for Lindsay. As usual – the wrong priorities.
8pm First preview. Gladiatorial – or thrown to the lions.

24 April
8 Show. The shape of things to come. NOT . . . We hope.
Bum sound cues and dozy audience (half of it, anyway).
27 April
Not feeling great. Stomach bug? Not to mention the knee.

28 April
6pm OPENING NIGHT – Tough, but Act 1 seemed OK. Act
2 they started to disappear. Act 3 they were already home, then
they cheered . . .
In the dressing room – Mike Nichols, Lauren Bacall, Emma
T., Tom Hanks, Rita Wilson.

29 April
Reviews all raves, apparently, so now we can just get on with
it.

4 May
The days are kicking in and lasting too long.

5 May
6.15 Wyndham Hotel and some champagne with Edna O’B.,
or the minx as Lindsay calls her since she tries to prevent us
from going to a movie. In vain. Determinedly, I get into the
car and off to 12th Street for The Piano Teacher. A completely
uncompromising film with Isabelle Huppert fearless as ever.

6 May
am Tony nominations in and we have 6. I hate all this,
especially since Adam & Emma are not in the list. And Helen
is, but not Ian etc., etc. Divisive, disturbing, unhelpful.

7 May
6am and awake – brooding, writing this and previous page.
Finding Christina’s note from last summer –
Trust, to go forward, transformation, divine protection,
strength, energy, cancellation of the fear of new things,
cancellation of the fear of love, relationship, wisdom, intuition,
reunion [?] of spiritual creatives and body creatives.

18 May
8pm Show.
After which we discover that Nicole Kidman & Tobey
Maguire arrived ½ hour late. Why come in?

19 May
6.00 Bill Evans [press/publicity] calls with winners losers news.
7pm Café des Artistes w. Lindsay & Bill Evans.
9pm Drama Desk Awards. Our producers are smarmy as
ever. Lindsay9 all dignity intact.
Later Café Lux. Natasha & Liam across the room beckoning
me to the losers’ table.

20 May
6.30 About a Boy. The kind of depressing English film where
single mothers and Amnesty workers are ugly people in
oversized sweaters.

26 May
6.30 → Liam & Natasha.
2 hour drive upstate to their glorious house and dinner with
John [Benjamin] Hickey & Jennifer [Carpenter] from The
Crucible plus – oh, Meryl’s in there . . . as in Streep. Who turns
out to be fun and gossipy. But it’s hard – who else looks like
Meryl Streep? So you can’t quite lose the stare . . .

27 May
Lunch on a terrace with the boys and us. Tash is the most
miraculous hostess. Nothing is forgotten.
4pm Dan Day-Lewis arrives to play tennis.
1 June
2pm Show.
As we came off stage, Meryl Streep is at the stage door. She
loved it. Plus daughter Grace. After the stage door signings,
there was a moment when she was in my dressing room
waiting for me to come back . . .

5 June
10am pick-up → Charlie Rose show. Who turns out to be
exactly what one had supposed – a great and improvisational
listener. This could have gone anywhere.

6 June
8pm Show.
The audience was, as they say, lively.

25 June
Apparently Cher was in. Which accounts for the late start.

16 July
8pm Show – Pits audience and, of course, Paul Newman &
Joanne Woodward in . . .

27 July
8pm Show. Unutterable exhaustion before, during and after. A
shame because the audience was very sharp. Howard watched
Act 1 and thought it all fine. Lindsay’s voice started to return in
Act 3. But the combination of personal dramas, antibiotics and
the tail end of the run is starting to take its toll.

20 August
8pm Show.
10.30 Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward. Thalia.
 Hard not to just stare in amazement at this wonderful,
generous, ego-free, open, childlike, utterly on-the-ball couple.

24 August
Supper with Ian Holm . . . Ian does his drunken cowboy –
‘OK you suckers, this is a fuck-up’ . . .

25 August
Hugh Cruttwell has died . . . This is a major event for all of us.
Happy/sad/enormous/proper.

26 August
9.30 Dentist. Until 2pm. But Jeff10 has done a really wonderful
job – top half anyway. Bottom half and the lone tooth – gone
forever.

1 September
3pm Private Lives – Final performance.
There were a few scary moments but the audience went wild
and Jimmy11 held up a board saying ‘I love you very much . . .’
10.30 Café Loup . . . We were sat at a table for 8, right next
to the piano. It had Noël Coward’s songbook waiting. Emma
Fielding picked out and we sang ‘Someday I’ll Find You’
through the red wine haze. IT’S OVER!

11 September
Decide not to fly home until tomorrow. Everything too rushed
and the rush seemed disrespectful. The TV coverage is
mercifully restrained and unbearably moving when it is utterly
personal – mothers, fathers, children holding up pictures,
sitting among the flowers at Ground Zero. And the unalterable
sense as the 2,800 names are read out is of world citizens – all
those South American, Japanese, Asian, European
names . . . And a year goes by and still no one talks properly
about it all.
16 September
LOVE ACTUALLY – first day.

21 September
11 Tate Britain – Lucian Freud.
Looking at these great paintings it’s as if Wagner, Mahler,
Elgar were playing loudly. Heroic, isolated, exposed people.

25 September
9.45 pick-up.
Em & me after the concert. Difficult, subtle, concentrated
stuff. The age-old problem of staying innocent whilst the head
is full of STUFF.
Home via Peter Jones (loo brushes) and General Trading
Company (a lucky find of a Bathroom Rubbish Container).
Such is life off its hinges.

28 September
8.30 Danny and Leila.
And, as Rima says, Danny talks more and more as
mouthpiece of the Daily Mail.

4 October
Greg Wise was on set but there was no chance to talk.

13 October
2pm Sweet Sixteen.
Ken Loach’s latest and another move towards populism, it
seems, although Martin Compston is a remarkable and fine
young actor.

21 October
8pm Duncan’s car to pick me, Beatie Edney and Adam’s
girlfriend Lucy up to go to Wembley Arena for Coldplay
concert. They were really wonderful – every song close to
being an anthem already and incredibly moving to see that
many people knowing the lyrics. In the bar backstage,
Gwyneth Paltrow [married to Chris Martin of Coldplay]
introduced herself (more beautiful offscreen) and then [we] met
the group in the inner sanctum with Richard Curtis.

25 October
2 Brydges Place. Happy-sad talk of Ruby’s envy of touring
around with friends in a play.
And then there’s a cheeky visit to Sheekey’s to find a cab,
where they sit us down with a bottle of champagne . . . Both
Ruby and I can feel a wheel turning. The fascination of
‘showbiz’ is ever-thinning. The opportunities for only REAL
work have to be nourished.

26 October
2.30am Before sleep.
This beautiful home must become a breeding ground, a
meeting place (although it is probably not rough enough yet),
so it has to be inhabited and filled with positive energy, good
spirits, rough and tumble.
To Conran to try to find sofa material. Failed.

1 November
The day ends, stupidly, with a row about cleaning brought on
by the fine layer, again, of white dust everywhere. Mop and
bucket at 1am.

10 November
7pm Royal Court.
Katrin Cartlidge12 memorial. Gut wrenchingly moving and
challenging (so what am I doing?) but a real sense of a person
still here somehow. Brave, generous Peter [Gevisser] K.C.’s
husband singing; her wonderful letter to Time Out berating a
journalist about a Vanessa Redgrave interview.

17 November
9.10 Bowling for Columbine.
This film has you shaking your everything in a numbed not
disbelief. It’s all too true and so well argued. A country kept
ignorant and ever fearful resorts to the gun in the name of
freedom.

25 November
8.30 Dinner w. Ruth & Richard Rogers – plus Edward &
Marianne Said, Daniel Barenboim & Elena, Alan & Lindsay
Rusbridger . . . Daunting might be the word. Said, charming,
Barenboim alarming, Rusbridger, as ever, it seems, devoid of
questions or curiosity or life, really. His wife is like Mrs Mole
full of nervous smiles.

3 December
Belvedere Restaurant.
Mel Smith’s 50th birthday party. Without Pam. Which casts
a bizarre shadow.

4 December
Talking to Paul Lyon-Maris about HP exit which he thinks will
happen. But here we are in the project-collision area again.
Reiterating no more HP. They really don’t want to hear it.

7 December
ROME.
3.30pm To the Opera House for rehearsal w. Johnny
Hallyday13 – and Mel Smith who finally made it from his film
set. Mr Hallyday (remembered well from youthful days in Paris)
is charming and very face-lifted but nothing to what is coming
up.
 6.30 pick-up Opera House for European Film Awards.
Polanski, Almodóvar, Wenders, Jeanne Moreau, Ken Loach,
Mike Leigh (with whom we shared a car) & dozens of
extremely beautiful Italian actresses.
Later dinner at the Palazzo delle Esposizioni. Mel and Pam
hosting a table. Mel somewhat perplexed by the non-response.
Why? He misjudged it spectacularly. What can you say? His
script was disastrous.

8 December
7.35[pm] → to London. Jeremy Irons was in the lounge. Nice
to see him & chat of Ireland and last night.

11 December
8.45 Sabrina [Guinness] plus car → 5 Cavendish Place for Mick
Jagger’s dinner party.

16 December
Edna O’Brien calls – ‘Have you seen Breath of Life?’14 She’s
already appalled and it’s only a question. ‘No, I haven’t.’ ‘It was
so terrible, I thought I might (pause, hesitancy, groping) . . .
explode.’

19 December
12 Don McCullin15 – doing portraits now. And strangely the
shyest most nervous man – in an incredibly endearing way as
he talks of his imminent new baby – ‘What am I doing? I’m
67’ – or his ex-wife – ‘She’s taken everything – I’ve got to start
all over again – I’m off to photograph the Kurds next
week . . . this light is fantastic . . . one more roll and I’m out of
here . . . sorry to take so long . . . Judi Dench next
week . . . I’m no good with women . . .’

21 December
Trudie & Sting’s Christmas party. Byzantium meets Fairyland.
They have built a red, ruched theatre where Richard E. Grant
read ‘’Twas the Night Before Christmas’, Zenaida Yanowsky16
& Andrew Muir danced The Nutcracker, the Razumovsky
Ensemble played the Brandenburg Concerto and Vasko Vassilev17
prodigied his way through the Carmen Fantasie. Around and
about all that was fantastic food and beautiful wine & Krug
champagne. But perhaps best of all was the chance to talk to
Elton John & David [Furnish] about S.A.F.E. [Sponsored Arts
for Education, Kenyan charity] and elicit their support.

24 December
11.45 Finally make it to the church in St Petersburgh Place – a
congregation out of Fellini by Francis Bacon through Ken
Loach. But a great organist and very superior choir really
letting rip on ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’.

30 December
12.30[am] Watched an hour of Winter Guest on Channel 4.
And back into the editing room with that. Amazing how
distance lends not disenchantment but maybe internal rhythms
change, too little courage (at times), horrible sound – beautiful
acting.

31 December
Selfridges for the presents still to get. Slight sense of panic.
1
Principal of RADA from 1965 to 1983
2
English actor Robert Stephens (1931–1995). Husband of Maggie Smith, with
whom he appeared in Private Lives in 1972.
3
Home improvement TV series
4
Re Frankenstein
5
Juliet Stevenson
6
Removal company
7
Alfonso Cuarón, Mexican film director (1961–)
8
After its highly successful London run Private Lives transferred with the same cast to
Broadway. It opened at the Richard Rodgers Theatre on 28 April and, after 127
performances, closed on 1 September. The reception was generally enthusiastic with
one reviewer purring over ‘the mutually sublime Alan Rickman and Lindsay
Duncan’. The latter won a Tony for Best Leading Actress while the production was
given the award for Best Revival.
9
Winner of Best Actress
10
Jeffrey Golub-Evans, New York dentist
11
American theatrical producer James Nederlander (1922–2016)
12
English actor (1961–2002)
13
French singer (1943–2017)
14
Play by David Hare
15
British war photographer (1935–)
16
French ballet dancer (1975–)
17
Bulgarian violinist and conductor (1970–)
 2003
MARTIN BASHIR, MICHAEL JACKSON – HARRY
POTTER 3 – DANIEL RADCLIFFE – TONY BLAIR –
JAMIE CULLUM – ROYAL FAMILY – ANNIE LENNOX –
JOHN McENROE – NO-WINE MONTH – PAUL
McCARTNEY – EMMA THOMPSON – LOS ANGELES –
MOS DEF – SOMETHING THE LORD MADE –
ANTIGUA – HARVEY WEINSTEIN

6 February
Selina comes up trumps with tickets for the Stones concert in
LA and alerts us again to the Beijing event . . . mmmm
1pm Freddie Findlay, now 19, comes round for lunch. Fairly
quickly we get to the point. He has been in drug rehab, is now
clean for 93 days and his agents have dumped him. That golden
12-year-old still visible behind the eyes, but an alcoholic father
and a manic depressive girlfriend are his present.

8 February
11am Phyllida. Late because she went to the wrong address and
then wandered up and down Westbourne Terrace looking at
doors and in windows until she hit upon the right one. Still
one of the most beautiful women on the planet.
Watching Martin Bashir’s documentary on Michael Jackson.
Disgraceful, self-serving journalism. How much did that cost?
Compare M.J.’s actions with those of a million pederasts &
paedophiles a day or the thousands of kids dying daily in S.A.
from Aids. Make a film about that with your concerned face.

9 February
1.30 River Cafe. Ruthie & Richard Rogers, Andrew Marr &
wife Jackie and children (the eldest at Latymer). Lovely, Sunday
afternoon chatter (but not with this lot).
14 February
8am and the phone rings. Judy Daish. Orlando Sesti has been
killed in a car crash in Spain. 22 years old. In a way it is like we
have been robbed as much as he has. One of those people you
watch slightly from a distance – they live life the way you wish
you could.
pm. And the madness goes on. Rima’s father has died. Not
that it wasn’t expected – he was 97. But he was their father and
the creator of all that Horton-ness.

15 February
12 Duke of York Theatre.
For the march.1 Except that we didn’t make it to the Duke
of York – no taxis anywhere. We walked to Piccadilly . . . and
joined the march there. At Hyde Park (having seen 1m people
behind us) there was Bruce Kent & Tariq Ali at the
microphones but Minnie Driver & Tim Robbins to remind us
that celeb rules, really.

27 February
→ Bournemouth for Rima’s dad’s funeral.

9 March
4pm Old Vic/Hugh Cruttwell’s memorial.
That it happened was what was important never mind the
material although Greg’s speech was wonderful as was
Geraldine’s.2 And the massed voices on ‘A Little Help From
My Friends’ was the abiding echo.

13 March
6.30 pick-up – HP 3. Day One.

3 April
These pages filled with nothing about the war but now they are
15 miles from Baghdad with threats of chemical warfare ahead
this seems like a marker point. Rumsfeld has become a hated
person (Bush seems like an irrelevance now).

7 April
I don’t seem to write much about the war mainly because there
is hardly a face I believe. Blair, yes, but his agenda is sooo
hopeful and idealistic. Forget Bush – just take one look at
Rumsfeld and Cheney. What would you sell them? Buy from
them?

14 April
7am pick-up – Harry Potter.
Top table stuff w. David Thewlis, Michael Gambon, Maggie
Smith, Warwick Davis.
More of the same really. But what else can you do except get
the shots – a choir, 300 children, 1 speech. People reading in
the background.

2 May
8.40 pick-up.
Corridor with Dan Radcliffe.
He’s so concentrated now. Serious and focused – but with a
sense of fun. I still don’t think he’s really an actor but he will
undoubtedly direct/produce. And he has such quiet, dignified
support from his parents. Nothing is pushed.

12 May
1pm Mark Meylan [voice coach].
There are definitely new notes in the vocal range. I hear it
speaking, shouting, singing and the title of Kristin Linklater’s
book is all too appropriate – Freeing the Natural Voice. I feel as if
I have never used any natural voice, that this noise that people
impersonate and which always depresses me is nothing to do
with me. Press on.
17 May
6pm Car to Chequers . . . Real sense of the shiver of history
going through the gates.
7.30 for 8. Arrive to find Ben Kingsley & wife, Peter Hain,
Principessa Strozzi, others . . . then Richard & Judy arrive,
then Tony & Cherie with 3-year-old Leo in his arms, in
pyjamas.
Dinner for 25. Tony hanging around at the door to talk to
me. (Was I the only known critic?) I mentioned S.A.F.E., Rima
in the Lords and blacklists in the US – not bad for 4 minutes.
On leaving I said ‘Well, thank God you’re in the room with
those maniacs.’3 He raised an eyebrow or two and said
‘Yes . . . it’s been . . . difficult.’ And we drove away, T.B.
silhouetted in the grand doorway in his off-white chinos and
blue open-necked shirt.

21 May
Evening completely taken over by stupidly picking up a sauce
pan by a handle that had been perched over a flame for about
15 mins. Even dropping it as quickly as possible left me with
my hand in cold water all evening and holding an ice bag in
bed.

2 June
3.30 Car to St James’s Palace to rehearse with Jamie Cullum
and all the others for tonight’s cabaret/after dinner
entertainment.
9.35 On stage in front of the entire royal family – 40 or 50
of them. The show goes well – Ronnie Barker & June
Whitfield walking off with the evening. But the poem plus
Jamie’s wonderful singing and playing was a happy
juxtaposition. Afterwards they all walked in – the pages of a
million newspapers. The Queen, Philip, Charles, Camilla (a
kiss on both cheeks . . .), Andrew, Anne, Edward, Sophie,
William, Zara, Peter etc., etc. . . . No need ever more to
wonder . . . And then to the Ritz for much champagne.

3 June
8 Tate Modern Photography Exhibition. Meet Martin Parr –
my hero.

6 June
8pm Annie Lennox concert. Sadler’s Wells. One of the great
voices and one of the great concerts. ‘Why’ is now a 20th C.
anthem. Annie afterwards quiet, curious, gentle, shy . . .

26 June
8.30 Zaika – Dinner for Patty and John McEnroe w. Ruby, Ed,
Suzanne, Nicky.
McEnroe is very sweet and loving with Patty [Smyth, his
wife] and endearingly unegocentric and polite in other ways.
I’m sure he’s a great dad and would be a fantastically loyal
friend. Who would have guessed? Also – he doesn’t mind
gossip – no one likes Rusedski.

28 June
All day on the sofa, or in the toilet. Thank you Criterion
Brasserie, one assumes.
Not to mention their seats bringing the back ache on again.
Eating nothing but a bowl of porridge later on.

29 June
Amazingly enough, better.

21 July
7.15 pick-up.
Coming out of the hole, fighting imaginary werewolves, etc.
Alfonso is looking stressed. Thank you Warner Bros.

27 July
1.30 Richard Rogers’ 70th birthday party at the River Cafe for
hundreds of close friends . . .

30 July
7am pick-up. Snape/Lupin Classroom.
The day got off to a fabulous start with the screen
guillotining on to my head, a sudden, swift blackout followed
by day-long melancholy. Not helped by my (fairly innocent)
‘Warner Bros won’t have that’ to the Leonardo Werewolf with
genitals drawing. Alfonso was quietly ballistic with me. I love
him too much to let it last too long so I wailed off-set and we
sorted it out. He’s under the usual HP pressure and even he
starts rehearsing cameras before actors, and these kids need
directing. They don’t know their lines and Emma [Watson]’s
diction is this side of Albania at times. Plus my so-called
rehearsal is with a stand-in who is French.

31 July
7am pick-up.
Tired, tense, enclosed. Snape-like. Not particularly useful to
a joyous atmosphere on the set.

11 August
8 To Maria Aitken’s4 house.
Edward Hibbert,5 Patrick McGrath, Edward St Aubyn.6 To
talk about M.A. and P. McG.’s script for Some Hope. My point
was that at the moment it has two scripts – Less Than Zero and
Gosford Park. It could be those combined, but not one after the
other. They all seemed to take it well. Roll on a second draft.

24 August
Car to Twickenham and the Rolling Stones concert. Jagger
amazing. Energy, focus, voice. Defying every known force that
might otherwise drag him into retirement.
10 September
Finally manage to start a NO WINE month. Stay-at-home
supper.

11 September
Interesting to wake with a clear head.
8.30 Danny & Leila come by for supper. Which was easy &
delicious. Especially the amazingly easy lemon sorbet with
vodka.

19 September
5.50 Calendar Girls – Whiteley’s.
Mostly, I hate The Full Monty/Billy Elliot/Bend It Like
Beckham version of Britain but at least this one is stuffed with
friends all being great – Helen Mirren, Julie Walters, Ceals
[Celia Imrie], Ros [March], Ciarán [Hinds], Geraldine [ James]
– and the story has some inherent shape. And it’s true. So it
becomes a real celebration. And it’s better directed [by Nigel
Cole] than all of the above. Clear, witty, honest.

2 October
6 To the Royal Court to Ian R[ickson]’s office to meet Cindy
& Craig Corrie, parents of Rachel. These are two remarkable
people. Gentle, sharp, acute listeners, such grace.

8 October
7 for 7.30. Concert for George [Harrison]. Great music &
incredibly moving. We measure our lives in Beatles songs as
well as everything else. His son [Dhani] is his double. High 5’d
with Paul McCartney in the Gents.

9 October
Lunch at Harry’s Bar for Sting CBE . . . Wonderful speeches by
Geldof and Sting . . . Sting’s (to music) took right on board the
moral dilemma of accepting the award.
10 October
9.45 Pick-up to start the Love Actually junket.
4pm Golden Square – screening of Love Actually. Me,
Martine McC[utcheon] and two of her friends.
Actually, she’s one of the best things in the film. Unaffected,
truthful and direct.

11 October
12.30 pick-up → Dorchester.
pm → 6pm with Emma for TV interviews. She was looking
great and then worked her socks off as per . . . After a while
there was something more duet-like happening. But it’s hard
for her to relinquish control. Fortunately she’s really good at it.

13 October
9.30 → Dorchester.
Somehow, for some reason, Emma was on even greater
overdrive. I get the feeling that she was on a mission to
compensate for my lack of . . . whatever. As the other
humiliations of the day dribbled on I became profoundly
depressed. But of course that too is even more inappropriate –
the 2 o’clock smile was paramount, or rather, universal.

15 October
5pm Michael Kamen.
Who was in a haze of cannabis . . . and why not . . .7
The music needs to go through a sieve and come out
attached to the right bits of narrative but he’s working on that.

3 November
8am pick-up.
10.55 → New York. Lowell Hotel.
7 November
11.55 → Los Angeles. Four Seasons Hotel.

12 November
Jimmy Kimmel Live.8
‘So this is a chick flick?’
‘No, it’s more of a dick flick.’
I got beeped but we were away with the horrors of Toby
Keith singing ‘American Soldier’ only minutes away. I’m on
the sofa with a stand-up, a boy trumpeter and one of the Red
Hot Chili Peppers. Slightly scary.

20 November
Hugo Young’s memorial service.
Which in a way I am grateful for. An hour or so in
Westminster Cathedral. Some great words, some great music,
some space to think about Michael, Gilly, Hugo.

22 November
7.30 Royal Academy of Music. Memorial service for Michael
Kamen.
Annie Lennox sings ‘All My Trials Lord’. David Gilmour
and Bryan Adams sing. The brothers – Lenny, Paul & Johnny –
speak. I speak. The girls – Zoë & Sasha – speak. And most
memorably, Michael’s father – it’s like something Shakespeare
forgot to write.

28 November
The last week has left me wiped out from putting myself on a
kind of hold. No release due to the peculiar pressure that is
induced by having to speak at two services. Add to that a
skittish relationship with jet lag . . .

29 November
2pm → Baltimore.
5.55 pick-up → Harbor Point Hotel.
pm Watching The Italian Job to see Mos Def. Who can act.
Very well.

1 December
Wardrobe [for Something the Lord Made]. Everything is too big.
pm Read through the script.
Mos is an absolute natural and v. smart, but it’s not clear how
focused.
Move room! Hooray!

2 December
7.30 pick-up.
Into makeup for camera tests. Some of which make the heart
sink. ‘More shading – he’s sick.’
Gentle manipulation of the script.

4 December
8pm Back at the hotel and a note from Pam Shriver inviting
me to the Roddick/Blake charity match in her ‘hometown’
tonight. Any other time – but I’m whacked.

8 December
4.15am pick-up.
FIRST DAY.
Which turns out to be an 18 hour day by the time I get back
to the hotel. With a painfully aggravated cartilage pain which
keeps me awake.

9 December
10.15[am] pick-up.
 Somewhere in here the little speech about letting the actors
rehearse.
Hotel at 11.30[pm].

10 December
Robert [Cort] the producer (Central Casting) and I have
another of our little chats. He talks, I listen and then say no . . .

11 December
What amounted to a row with Joe [Sargent, director] over his
total inability to let a scene play to the end without talking
about a move, a bit of business or some ill-judged notion. Of
course he feels threatened but I’m in a no-win situation. And
Mos is up there in the handlebars.

12 December
Robert comes to the trailer to deliver one of his monologues.
He does them often. This one was all about how I was a Rod
Steiger (v. temperamental by the way) and how he could help.
All the best notions but if he’s not insisting on a process being
honoured – what’s the point?

13 December
Freezing cold day.
A walk to the mall in the harbour to Barnes & Noble,
thinking mainly ‘but books are heavy’ so found my way to the
CDs. Elvis Costello, Keith Jarrett, Youssou N’Dour, Mos Def.

15 December
Bits and pieces day.
Full of my new passivity.
Of course all it produces is something more bland than it
needs to be but it keeps people happy – ish.
Although I think the crew relish the challenge.
 Bob C.9 upset that no one seems happy about Saddam
Hussein’s capture (he’s a Republican).

16 December
Joe calls with tomorrow’s 4.45 call so a planned dinner out is
off which leaves me watching Diane Sawyer’s interview with
George and Laura B. And this is a president. Diane did well,
short of being rude – but those little eyes can narrow beyond
belief and that little smile can look the smallest, meanest sneer.
What a small human being this is. And a tadpole next to the
shark of a wife.

19 December
11.30 pick-up – was to have been a day off.
12 Long, long wig-cutting session. Plus – a total rewrite of
the last scene is handed to me – no warning, no discussion.
Totally unactable, written by committee with no awareness of
silence or what it is that actors do.
Fuming, fuming until I speak to Eric [Hetzel, executive
producer] and we get back to what they had chucked out. A
pity that it has to get to me saying ‘I’m not saying these words.’

22 December
Glorious sunshine all day for umpteen exterior scenes which
looked an impossibility on the call sheet. Somehow we made it
with a lot of fleet-footed tap dancing on all fronts. What with
the holidays, it was all v. good for company morale.
5ish Rima has arrived.

24 December
More sunshine. From where?
11 Car to Washington.
Rain, fog. That’s more like it.
For what it’s worth, sitting in the car I feel I am turning
some sort of corner. The past few days – what with rewriting
two scenes – that made me surer about adapting a book at
some point and letting new things in the door.
Bring it on 2004.

27 December
4.30 → Dulles Airport for the 7am → San Juan.
1.40 → Antigua.
4.30 Eventually make it to the jetty – Barbara & Ken
[Follett] waiting to escort us to their truly fabulous house.

28 December
Rima & Barbara are perfectly matched at Scrabble and she
sorted out the remaining clues in the Times crossword.
7.30 To the Hotel for Barbecue Night. Said hello to Harvey
Weinstein who didn’t seem thrilled to be discovered – or it’s
my paranoia.

30 December
6.30 Another cocktail party – more incredibly rich people in a
house lifted from the Hollywood Hills via pharmaceutical
millions.
1
Against the Iraq war
2
English actor Geraldine McEwan (1932–2015). She was Hugh Cruttwell’s wife.
3
Members of the Bush administration
4
English director and actor, married to novelist Patrick McGrath
5
British-American actor (1955–)
6
English novelist, author of Some Hope
7
Michael Kamen had multiple sclerosis and died from a heart attack on 18
November 2003.
8
Jimmy Kimmel Live! is an American chat show renowned for its unpredictable
nature.
9
Robert Caswell, screenwriter
 2004
SOMETHING THE LORD MADE – BALTIMORE – NEW
YORK – LAUREN BACALL – PARIS – STEPHEN
POLIAKOFF – SOMERSET – JOAN BAKEWELL –
ARGENTINA – KENYA – CAPE TOWN – MARY
SELWAY – RUFUS WAINWRIGHT – NEW YORK –
HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN
– MIKE NICHOLS – TORONTO – ST TROPEZ –
HARRY POTTER – LOS ANGELES – ALAN BATES –
THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY –
MAGGIE SMITH, MICHAEL GAMBON – BEN
KINGSLEY – MY NAME IS RACHEL CORRIE –
AMANPULO

3 January
[filming Something the Lord Made]
Baltimore.
Mooching around all day.

4 January
5.30 pick-up and the continuing madness of shots first, acting
second. One of the scenes appeared to be entirely about Mos
and a mop and a bucket. Even the camera crew entreaties
didn’t shift Joe. Every take meant people on their hands and
knees towelling the floor dry again.

8 January
Los Angeles.
A night of vivid dreams. Sitting in some kind of auditorium
– fun – and finding Rima & me in the same row as Bush Snr
and family (strangely no G.W. anywhere). Bush Snr suddenly
barks out topics of conversation. ‘OK – what do you have to
say on – BEEF!?’ I’m nudging R. to speak but there’s a mass
silence.

9 January
Los Angeles.
Oh, my changing eyes and mind re Los Angeles. Still the
perennial holiday town but the celeb obsessed stuff is getting to
me in a big way.

10 January
Los Angeles → Baltimore.
There’s this band of always-the-same-ness about LA which is
comforting in a way but underneath it is a band of something
casual, feral, of-the-moment only, full of eyes staking you out –
Are you someone? Were you someone? Do you give off ‘any
heat at all?’ Might you? Although that would imply
forethought, foresight, a kind of intelligence – and that is
ultimately just an animal response – but not an animal that has
any dignity or sense of its place in the world. This one has
nervous, tight eyes, no sense of home, stays long enough to
feed and move on.

11 January
Baltimore.
Some long chat between Mos and Joe had gone on. Look
out of a window and go back to the hotel in full make-up and
wait until 6pm to go back for the lecture theatre scene. Which
is over at 11pm. So that’s another 17 hour day with a close-up
at the end of it.
Back at the hotel, there’s a movie [The Score] with Brando,
de Niro and Ed[ward] Norton in. Interesting to see de Niro
utterly in control of Norton and utterly fazed by Brando (but
was Brando even there?).
Then Larry King has a programme about James Dean. The
Real Thing. Truthful, ageless, masculine, feminine. Adored by
all.

17 January
Baltimore.
Day off.
To Barnes & Noble to find more gifts and some Jimmy Scott
CDs.

19 January
To the set at 6.15pm. Dodgy part of Baltimore, Gabrielle1 has
her trousers nicked from her trailer. There’s a knock on the
door of mine. Outside a ten-year-old claiming to want an
autograph.

29 January
Baltimore.
Last day.
3.30 pick-up.
And an amazingly swift rip through the last four scenes.

30 January
Baltimore.
7pm Wrap party.
Hideous – loud (as in cannot hear a word anyone is saying
and no one is dancing, so what’s the fucking point?). Happily I
got there early so there was still some food.

2 February
New York.
8 DEF POETRY. The Supper Club.
Taping of Mos’ HBO show. Marcia Firesten & I two of
maybe 6 white people in the audience. It was like a rock
concert but for poetry . . .
5 February
1pm Nina Darnton.
God, will she ever relax and wonder what might happen
instead of arranging everything in front of her. With options in
case of disaster.
Version two. Except more calculating, as well. But I love her
for her courage. If only it wasn’t mixed with being a bit of a
madam.

6 February
11 Orso.
Manage to almost walk past Lauren Bacall on my way back
from the Gents. The inimitable voice stops me in my tracks. Sit
down and listen to stories of UK/quarantine/dogs.

8 February
Home at 9-ish.
Rima sick, on prescription drugs and not making a lot of
sense.
Wander round putting stuff in different places, wondering
why I didn’t stay in New York.

17 February
Michael Attenborough [theatre director] must be one of the
most indiscreet people I’ve ever met – ‘I’m sorry if X is
anyone’s best friend but’ should be his middle name. And not a
good idea to have such open prejudice against actors while in
the same room as an actor . . .

20 February
PARIS.
6.30 Car to Waterloo Eurostar for 7.30 → Paris.

21 February
Walking, shopping at Issey M.
Gaspard de la nuit/Birthday dinner.
Very good food. Very family-run with someone who needs
lessons from Eva at Patio in how to walk up and down your
domain dispensing bonhomie rather than quiet alarm. But then
the French gave us the word froideur.

25 February
Stephen Poliakoff. To dinner at the Cow. He wants to do an
interview for the DVD release of Close My Eyes. Apart from
that his mind as quixotic and lightning sharp as always. The
chat has to be so specific otherwise a lazy half sentence is
pounced on like a cat with a ball of string.

26 February
4.30 Dr Choy.
Who says (rightly) why is it men who have to get up in the
night to pee, why is it that only boys are bedwetters? He thinks
we can train ourselves out of this impulse but offers only vague
ideas as to how.

27 February
2.30 Oval House, Brixton Road.
Workshop performance of Victoria Wood’s Acorn Antiques
musical. Trevor Nunn [director] was in the corner shop before
it started and looked horror-struck that I was coming. After he
left Richard E. Grant arrived. But we were, as it turned out,
only there to laugh, applaud, and be entirely on their side.
Brilliant structure, hilarious show, great songs, wonderful
acting.

29 February
Somerset.
A beautiful sunny morning. Walk through the fields, down
lanes, to the Margery Fish garden, to the pub for a drink. After,
Miranda [Richardson] had taken me around the impending
studio and the location of the planned lake. Late lunch after the
family who have come to choose a puppy have left. A bit
nerve-racking. Like being auditioned.
To London via Basingstoke – one of those seemingly endless
Sunday journeys. But the memory of the Yeovil Station buffet
lingers. Like something from a ’40s film. Long modern
counter, fire (false) in the grate.

1 March
8.30 Aphrodite w. Ruby & Ed.
I don’t know – Ruby buys a shopping trolley without
checking. Ed was only half present – Maddy [their daughter] at
home in pain with a new brace. Ruby drank an awful lot for
her and it did all end in tears. I found myself staring at a
situation I don’t want to be part of.

4 March
3pm Stephen Poliakoff – interview for Close My Eyes DVD. V.
odd having to refer to ‘Stephen said . . .’ while I’m looking at
him. And somewhat to my surprise he segues with slightly
surprising (to borrow his vernacular) ease into Die Hard gossip.
‘Have you told these stories before?’ says the marketing
director, aquiver.
Car to Olympia [antiques fair]. Bought 4 chairs. And a
FontanaArte lamp.
6.45 Lincoln’s Inn for Helena K.’s book launch, Just Law.
And if the people in the room are the usual suspects – rounded
up, then I’m v. content to be one of them, in this crazy Britain.

6 March
[RADA away weekend]
Morning session at 9.
Generally this weekend still feels like the staff looking for
validation of things they’ve already decided. There’s a
reluctance to be self-critical. Blame is such an easy option.

7 March
1pm Joan Bakewell joins on her way to the Bath Festival. She
has the perfect balance of curiosity and anecdote, discretion and
indiscretion. That’s why she’s Joan Bakewell I guess.

9 March
To the nursing home to see Auntie D. & Uncle V. The first
sight of them is like a rite of passage – in their room, in their
armchairs (having walked down a corridor with the smell of
urine wafting along with me), both asleep, waxen. Awake, as
usual Auntie D. does all the talking – how they love it here, the
staff are wonderful, but worry because they’ve always paid their
way . . . Here and there we trade some memories and Uncle V.
silently weeps at the mention of people & places gone.

10 March
To Argentina.
7.15 → Madrid → 11.40 → Buenos Aires.

12 March
9am Touching the Void.2 They had to make a dramatisation
because the 2 guys themselves are on a charisma bypass. But the
shots are amazing and the ongoing dilemmas jaw-dropping.

14 March
10.30 To the gym to get rid of the Argentinian beef calories.

17 March
A rush through the rain attempting to make it to the
auditorium in time for the Brazilian film, but the water is too
deep to get out of the taxi – so back to the hotel to pack.

18 March
Argentina.
 To Isla Victoria, Lake Nahuel Huapi.
On the plane to Bariloche – a lettuce sandwich, a roll
containing meat & mozzarella with boiled egg on the top, hot
tray of pork & prune kebab plus chicken on a piece of toast, all
sitting in spinach & cheese & cream sauce; two more rolls, a
packet of crispy tostadas and a cream horn with toffee
sauce . . .

19 March
11am Horse ride w. Marcus the guide and Marianna & Paulo –
the only other guests in the hotel. She’s a travel agent (how
useful), he engineer/farmer. From Buenos Aires. Good thing
Rima didn’t come – it would have been too hairy for her.
Down slopes, cantering, through thick branches, etc. But a
dream realised. Riding in Patagonia.

20 March
1pm Boat to the mainland and then to Peñon del Lago. Met by
Raquel who says ‘Ready for your tour?’ Now I understand the
meaning of ‘seeing something of Bariloche’. Indeed,
everything.
pm Rima gets the full birdwatching joy from the gardens
outside the room. Ibis and lapwings by the dozen it seems.

21 March
2.30 Car to Bariloche Airport. The point and double-takes and
‘It is him!’ took on a new edge when one of the culprits was
Caroline Kennedy . . .3
NB We have talked of not handing over so much of the day
to other people, other causes. This trip, this solitude, has
reminded me of the time and space needed to be creative. Not
to be so subject to others’ whims. It will take a real clear out of
the cupboard and a real strength of purpose.

22 March
NB cont’d. Currently the phone rings too often and I answer
it. Appointments clutter up the work. There should be clearer
use of the day. Time to be fit, time to think.

31 March
NB Take these trips more often – you can see the life you are
living more clearly. Pack fewer clothes. Heavy suitcases are a
misery. Don’t slide back into the old habits. If there is a plan –
live it.
10.50 Car to Westbourne T. in glorious sunshine.
Immediately unsettled. Unpacking, answering (or opening)
mail, email, answerphone. The unutterable clutter of London
life. And immediately people want pieces of you . . . watch it
like a hawk . . . talking about work is confining not freeing –
what does it mean? It all feels like a necessary evil – find myself
resentful about ADR4 and the press requests for HP (neither
are creative so it’s not surprising).

12 April
Stayed-at-home day. What on earth did I do? Except watch
hours of stupid TV which somehow calms the mind in the face
of the pile of unread material and the acreage of untapped
brain. This has to stop.
While the apartment work goes on there has to be some
stripping away as well as all that adding . . . If it becomes too
much a comfort zone in an indiscriminate sort of way, a torpor
sets in. Some rigour needs to be introduced.
8.45 Frontline w. Ruby & Ed.
This is, strangely, a comfort zone. Good and bad that. Old
friends mean a space that can be dangerously unchallenging if
we just take turns to announce what we’re doing. There’s so
much familiarity but so much that’s hidden.

13 April
Swim at the new Health Club. Low lighting thank God. Steam
room by the poolside and Starbucks on the way out.
2 Dexter called by for some lunch on the balcony. In the
sun. I was being snappy. He looked alarmed.
7.45 The Permanent Way NT.
David Hare’s play (directed by Max [Stafford-Clark]) about
rail privatisation and the big crashes of recent years. Towards
the end a character voiced what I had been feeling – ‘we don’t
do communal well in Britain’. No – we know how to give
orders or how to grovel but getting us to work happily for each
other – like pulling teeth. Hence the inevitable existence of the
Daily Mail – all hate, envy and punishment. It’s enough to
make one pack all bags.
Later reading Gielgud’s letters. Less than 30 years ago and
there’s nothing like that now. The acting community is all over
the shop. Nests are being feathered, careers grabbed at. Must
get back on stage and enjoy it.

16 April
Figuring out flights/transfers.5
2pm Surgery for 4 injections and a prescription for malaria
pills. Then I buy up half of Boots.
8pm River Cafe. Alan & Lindsay Rusbridger. Alan is much
more relaxed than I’ve known him. Smaller numbers, maybe.
Ruthie’s guest list can be daunting. But her attention to her
own detail has her asking us to review her latest waiter’s
checklist – Piercings? No. Sleeves rolled up? Don’t care etc. She
also has her verbal no-nos. As in ‘enjoy’, ‘you guys’ and such
like crap. I was reminded also of the air stewardess who scaled
Beckettian heights: ‘Would you care for a beverage at this
time?’

20 April
Kenya.
 Yesterday evening smothered in sadness by [casting director]
Patsy Pollock’s phone call. Through the tears she leaves a
message telling us that Mary Selway is seriously ill – and hasn’t
long. Glorious Mary.
8.30 → LHR for the 10.25 → Nairobi.
Wrote a bit, read a bit – The Sea, The Sea [by Iris Murdoch].
Bewildering, really, cumulatively powerful & disturbing
moment by moment in danger of comic melodrama.
Car to the Norfolk Hotel. Time to raid the mini-bar rather
than test the rigours of room service. Thus dinner was 1 Diet
Coke, 1 packet BBQ crisps, 1 packet cashews, 1 packet
macadamia nuts (discarded – honey-coated). Watched Boston
marathon on TV. Kenyans won everything.
And may these pages catch something of Simon Gray’s
Smoking Diaries – his portrait of the ginger-haired, lounger-
thieving New Arrivals seems like something I have actually
lived through.

21 April
11.15 → On the plane to Malindi there’s a 3-year-old who can
really use her crying. Racked with sobs and then the endless
pause while she gathers breath, looks around, has a think before
really letting rip.
12.20 Nick Reding6 collects and off to find the troupe and
my hotel. ‘£50 a night, will that be OK?’ A sentence not often
heard. Lunch of fish & rice and off to the performance in a
village Disney might have constructed. Band, drums, kids
frightened of the camera, as the troupe is encircled by about
500, who listen and laugh as one. So many young girls with the
baby sister/brother strapped to their backs. It is a terrific
performance by a very focused group of actors. Afterwards we
career down a road to a boatyard café for a cold beer then back
to the hotel for a shower.

23 April
Mombasa → Nairobi.
7.45 To the clinic, to the apartment, to James’ (troupe) house
– to the buffet lunch restaurant – to the car pick-up – to the
airport – to Nairobi.
Any other time I would be taking it all in with unclouded
vision and I certainly did my best to be supportive but the
shutters had come down and wouldn’t lift. A mood that needs
time or a juggernaut to shift.
Reading Rough Guide – somewhere in there a fine and
accurate description of Mombasa. So much friendlier than the
sense (all I can have) of Nairobi which is as screwed up as a city
can be. Geoffrey talks to me of driving at night to Nairobi (not
a good idea), of nails placed in the road to catch one tyre or
another, of beggars holding babies that aren’t babies, of never
talking to anyone through the driver’s window. It’s gangland.

24 April
Nairobi → Jo’burg → Cape Town.
At the passport/immigration/whatever desk the woman
glances up and says, ‘You look too serious to be an actor. You
get all the serious parts?’ ‘Not always.’ ‘Then the sad ones . . .’
On the phone to the UK – and Mary Selway has died.

28 April
Cape Town.
Lunch with Pearlie Joubert [journalist] – sharp & funny as
ever esp. on subject of phone interview with British security
forces re her trip to Zimbabwe. ‘What would you do if
someone pointed a gun at you?’ ‘Put my hands up, say hello sir,
would you like a blow-job, if he said no – run like fuck.’ ‘This
is not a laughing matter, madam.’

29 April
On the plane reading more of Simon Gray’s diaries. Very
moving about his father and his brother, very funny about his
cats and dogs. And the pages suffused with his love for his wife,
largely because he mentions her only glancingly – you sense
her beauty, and her grace and her laughter.
1.30 After killing some time in Hatchards where an
incredibly courteous woman came up and said her simple,
clear, heartfelt ‘thank you’ – to St James’s for Mary Selway’s
funeral service. Sat with Paul Brooke,7 other friends all over.
Simple and beautiful service, the church filled with pink and
white peonies, for this great woman.

1 May
. . . a message from Sigourney W. talking about play in New
York this summer . . .
Also spoke to Ian McK. who had seen Hamlet8 last night and
was shocked at the general level of acting. But how crazy to
have a profession & a press who are slavering and it’s your first
real exposure?

3 May
9.15 The Wolseley w. Juliet Stevenson and Mark [Shivas]. Not
to mention Lucian Freud sitting at the table adjacent . . . as was
Bob Hoskins . . . but L.F. for God’s sake – with his beautifully
tied tie.

6 May
9pm Rufus Wainwright at Dingwalls. Plangent would be the
word. And he certainly enjoys making the sounds. A consonant
here & there and hearts would crack. Talking to him afterwards
he has a high-pitched giggle that comes as a shock.

7 May
What dreams. (1) Joan Collins. I’m interviewing her for a
magazine about her time at RADA. She arrives in some foyer,
taps me on the shoulder – has no make up on & her hair is
streaked grey. (2) Paola Dionisotti. With a length of grey cotton
I’m sewing a little triangle of pretend pubic hair on to her
trousers/skirt while she tells me of her frustrating time trying
to give dialect lessons to some foreign star. [Richard]
Attenborough comes in, says we have missed some important
lunch.
I think it was the prawns.

13 May
7.45 The History Boys, NT.
Alan Bennett’s new play. A glorious start stuffed with
memories of schooldays and teachers. A paean to the most
eccentric and gifted of them. Never mind the teachers who
have died. I would love to watch this with Ted Stead. Griffo9
wonderful, Frankie [de la Tour] like an incendiary. Clive M.10
licking the plate clean.

14 May
New York.
Nowadays it’s par for the course – not packed at all for nearly
3 weeks away – somewhere in the back of my mind a
subliminal knowledge of what has to be clean; not bothering
about ironing – the hotel can do that – who is this person??
1.45 car to Heathrow. Crowd outside terminal. Some sort of
scare. Anthony M. at check-in. Same flight, instantly
reassuring.
6.45 New York.
To the Lowell Hotel.

15 May
8 Jumpers.
Stoppard bores me rigid again. Essie Davis gives it the star
treatment. Simon [Russell Beale] . . . I wish someone would
tell him not to be so lovable. It’s like he needs a smack rather
than a director.
18 May
Baltimore.

19 May
Baltimore → Los Angeles.
Profoundly hung over. This has to stop. I cannot stagger
about like this – head (whose head? what head?) unconnected
to neck, legs with a life of their own. Is this what they mean by
alcohol being a poison?

21 May
Los Angeles.
Brain-tangling phone call where it’s hard to frame a sentence
let alone get a word in. Some people see the world through
such a narrow lens. Widen the fucking aperture and solutions
are visible all round you.
The Grove. Apple Shop.
Do I want a computer? Everyone else thinks so. There’s
someone tapping away opposite me as I write this. I think I
prefer pen and paper. No wires for a start.
Talk to Stephen Poliakoff. The Guardian wants to do an
interview for Close My Eyes DVD. Strangely close to the Potter
opening . . . I think not.

22 May
Los Angeles → New York.
11.10 → New York.
I begin to pick up this journal like a homing pigeon. There’s
a definite urge to write coming from some left field. Maybe
that’s the reason for the word processor.

23 May
New York.
 4pm Harry Potter 3. World Premiere.
Arriving at Radio City was like being a Beatle. Thousands of
fans screamed as we got out of cars or became more visible.
Mostly for Daniel Radcliffe but a rush for everyone. Not to
mention walking out on to the stage to 6,000.
Alfonso has done an extraordinary job with this. It is a very
grown up movie, so full of daring that it made me smile and
smile. Every frame of it is the work of an artist and story-teller.
Stunning effects that are somehow part of the life of the film,
not show-off stunts. Later back to the hotel w. Eleni & Ariel
Dorfman who takes egomania to utterly charming heights. He
just loves being him.

25 May
5.30 Mike Nichols. They’ve moved upstairs to the penthouse –
Diane [Sawyer, M.N.’s wife] was sleeping before the 3am wake-
up for GMA.11 Mike poured a couple of Bullshots and we
went out on to the wraparound terrace – NY everywhichway
– as usual the most all-embracing, civilised, witty,
compassionate conversation – Bush, Antony & Cleopatra,
Pacino, [M.N.’s] new musical, Kate Nelligan12 – ‘I think she
lost hope’ – New Zealand . . . An elegant, verbal slalom. As I
left: ‘Remember – you’re always number one.’ And the heart
lifts.

26 May
11.10 (11.30) → Toronto.
2.15 w. David Cronenberg to Prego for lunch. They say that
the atmosphere on his set is always ace and I can believe it.
Charm and good humour in spades but unerring eye for the
specifics. We talk of The Sea, The Sea and seem to be on the
same page.
7.30 David Young collects me & we go look at his new
house. Michael Ondaatje joins to go for drinks.
28 May
Toronto → London.
6.15am Heathrow.
Home sevenish. Mail, phone, clothes, email, etc.
I heard yesterday about David MacDonald’s13 funeral.
10am Kensal Green crematorium.
I felt like an observer if not an outsider – I had always found
David slightly alarming but then they all were – my Gods of
the seventies with their outrageous repertoire and 50p seats.
British theatre legend and we should be there. Beautiful music,
simple service, and then to the Chelsea Arts Club in Michelle
Guish’s car. Giles H.14 was looking a bit haunted . . . and there
was Philip15 with his sweet and sourness.

30 May
5pm Car to drive to Leicester Square for Harry Potter London.
8 Screaming thousands (some since 5am apparently).
9.30 National History Museum for the party. Weirdly there’s
a VIP area which of course everybody wants to get into and not
everyone can. Not sure if this isn’t a little divisive . . .

31 May
11ish Orso. On the way in – Simon Gray is sitting at a table.
He raises a hand in greeting. ‘Mr Nichols,’ I say – and it’s 2
minutes before I realise. A letter in the morning . . .

1 June
A letter is posted to Simon Gray.
8.30 Brian Cox’s birthday party.
Chateau Brian as it’s called. Although the Hacienda look is
pure Hollywood Hills and rather wonderful in Camden Mews.
Lulu there again. Roger & Sue Graef finally succeeded in
giving me a lift home not before Ian Rickson talked of a play
for me, Frances B. & Miranda. A multi-layered evening.

2 June
a.m. listing the possibilities seems like an idea:
Manchester United Ruined My Life
Four Last Songs
Plague House
A Little Chaos
Pas De Trois
French movie
Snowcake
Mrs Farnsworth
The Royal Court play????

8 June
11.30 Mansion House for RADA lunch – 1.15 (w. The
Queen).
The snapshots would be of milling about, people looking
suddenly older, some in hats and palaver, men in red uniforms
holding pikestaffs (the ones in glasses letting the side down). A
feeling of having to accept our place in the Establishment, or
not. Vivienne Westwood was there, for heaven’s sake. The
Queen in yellow laughing at Richard Wilson. Dickie A. with
his finger unerringly on the button, mentioning the D-Day
celebrations of Sunday. Working the socks off to enlist Donald
Gordon16 to the cause. But mostly – looking up to the gallery
at the T-shirted students looking down – the sense of thirty
years. And a shy pride at being there once.

20 June
Home to a phone message from Lindsay saying she was off to
the Dylan concert and did I want to come? Did I? It was
raining and I was warm. Visions of mud and crowds put the
skids on that. But I would have. I called back – she was already
on her way. So – hopeless. But the offer to bring Adam Duritz
and any stray Counting Crow back afterwards was leaped on
and, later, confirmed . . . It was a great evening. From
nowhere.

26 June
FRANCE.
5am The alarm.
More watering the garden.
5.45am The car.
6.30am The airport.
7.40 (well 8.10) The flight to Nice.
Once there, the driver clearly has the wrong address. Phone
Natasha Richardson, get right address and off we go for the
one hour drive to Le Nid du Duc . . .17 Mythical really and
there are already a group of books that speak of it and its
heyday in the ’70s.
8.30 → St Tropez. Dinner at local restaurant up a side street
past the serried ranks of yachts moored, each more bloated than
the next, in the harbour facing the cafés.
Back at the house for limoncello, rosé, chocolates and games.
Having read some of Tony Richardson’s book,18 I felt we were
upholding a fine tradition from the days of Hockney,
Schlesinger, Nicholson & Redgraves all.

27 June
Under the vine reading and a phone call from Stephen Boxer19
telling us that Peter Blythe has died. He’d been ill for a while,
no one knew. Poor, poor Harriet [Walter, P.B.’s partner]. She’s
had enough this year. This awful year.
Dinner at the house. Much talk of how friends & family die,
and on to the terrace chatting, listening to Richard Harris
singing from Camelot and as a 3am reward – banging my head
on a doorway and feeling the blood run down my forehead.

28 June
Wake up. Head OK.
Supper at the house – lamb & ratatouille. Delicious as ever.
Somewhere over the dessert N. mentions the E tablets she has
and L. & R. having declined I join her for a bit of unknown
territory. Some initial queasiness and then a lot of affection and
chat (Ian McK. on the phone at this point), a walk around the
garden, more drinks, more chat, eventually bed at 3am. Wide
awake in the oddest way. Still today, accelerating mind. Par for
the course, apparently.

30 June
Home again thinking did that really happen? Were we in that
glorious place – with all that recent history de nos
jours . . . Hockney, Proctor, Vanessa. Lazing & laughing &
playacting through the ’70s & ’80s with Tony Richardson as
playmaster.

3 July
David and I go to collect Uncle Vic to take him to see Auntie
Dolly in hospital. She’s less confused now, but it is a fairly
unforgettable sight arranging two wheelchairs so that they can
kiss each other goodbye.

11 July
Last I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue in current series. Oh woe.
Phone call from David to say Auntie Dolly looking seriously
unwell.

12 July
am Call to say Auntie Dolly has died. So it goes on and on.
And only the clichés work. She didn’t linger . . . it is better this
way . . . well, no there is another way, surrounded by your
family, at home. But these days? God rest her soul.

20 July
Auntie Dolly’s funeral.
1.30 Car to Buchanan Court.
Factions of families gather in the forecourt, lobby and
eventually dining room. It’s a slow black-clad dance. Nobody
knows the steps or the tunes.
3pm The cortege sets off after Uncle Vic emerges with
Medea [cousin Eileen] on his arm. He moves slowly on the
walker then stops and collapses in tears. It’s a family pattern.
And he will be laughing soonish. At the church Trevor
[Arwen’s cousin] sits alone on a bench, his black-clad Greek
chorus of nieces as far away as possible. The service has an
honesty that was good. The pub was basic. Family day out. The
worst of it side-stepped.

26 July
6.10pm Fahrenheit 9/11.
I don’t care what they say. M. Moore is brilliant and all the
carping from the vested interests cannot detract from the
sickening truths that run through this v. important film.

31 July
11am pick-up → Chiswick Town Hall. Vogue Christmas shoot.
Not quite sure how and why I said yes to this.

26 August
Starting to clear out what might be called the press/PR
cupboard. Really rather depressing. Predictably so, I suppose,
once one starts to reread interviews, see photographs etc. The
brave thing would be to dump it all. I think I’m moving
towards it. Find some kind of essence. A few vaguely sensible
sentences, a few unselfconscious photographs. Certainly with
all the recent cleaning, the air is lighter around me. I shall
persevere.

29 August
With David to see Uncle Vic. ‘Hello strangers’ was his fair
enough greeting and then he breaks down at the door of the
bathroom. Then walks, sits, smiles, breaks down. Clearly takes
everything in. Chats, sleeps, watches TV. Goes for his lunch.
David & I come home and watch Amir Khan20 not win a
gold medal. Ludicrous expectations but what’s new?

2 September
12 Sarah Shurety, Feng Shui expert. The surname should be a
new noun. Her surety left me a bit poleaxed. The space is
dangerously awry – something that I have been feeling strongly.
Her analysis – too masculine, no resting places, too much
metal, water flowing wrongly.

14 September
Back to HP.
7.40 HP. Sc. 94.
There could be a new agency called Glorified Extras. It
would include Maggie Smith, Michael Gambon, Robert
Hardy, Miranda Richardson, Robbie Coltrane, Frances de la
Tour, never mind the kids. This is just one of those scenes that
goes on and on – something happens – and then it continues
with lots of group work and little dialogue.

15 September
HP.
7am pick-up.
Today we are running into the arena to administer some
bizarre liquid.

17 September
LOS ANGELES.

19 September
3pm Judy arrives. Into the limo and to the Shrine Auditorium
for the 2004 Emmy Awards.21

26 September
7pm Memorial for Alan Bates. Beautiful man, beautiful
occasion. Amazing roll-call of memories – Sheila Ballantyne,
Malcolm McDowell, Alan Bennett, Keith Baxter,22 Eileen
Atkins,23 Frankie de la T[our], Celia I[mrie] etc., etc. His talent
deepened all the time. Reminded again that actors have big all-
embracing hearts.

28 September
HP.
7.55 pick-up.
Smacking the backs of Daniel [Radcliffe] & Rupert [Grint]’s
heads – doubtless a fuss will ensue about corporal punishment.

29 September
7.10 pick-up.
Back to the head banging. In a way it becomes an interesting
exercise justifying total silence with some mild physical abuse
thrown in.

3 October
Lunch – Kathy Lette and Geoffrey Robinson.24
Maybe only Kathy could put together Bianca Jagger, John
Mortimer, Kylie & Dannii Minogue, Helena Kennedy, Frida
(from Abba). Joyce Hytner,25 plus a bunch of kids, throw in
Scrabble and make it all work. Mid conversation Frida suddenly
asks ‘Do you have psoriasis?’ and gives me a telephone number
of a clinic she’s connected to. Kathy had said in an email she’s
rather reclusive and interesting.
 Later at home, bizarrely, after taking a visiting Sean
B[iggerstaff] out for curry, there’s Abba on Channel 5. We
wave our arms around to ‘Dancing Queen’, ‘Fernando’ and
‘Chiquitita’.

4 October
A day and a half.
9.30 Goldcrest to do the voice of Marin in Hitchhiker’s Guide
to the Galaxy which we complete by 1.30. My voice a bit sarf
London but me for now.

5 October
10.30 Royal Court.
Meeting w. Elyse Dodgson [theatrical producer] and
Katharine Viner.26 Katharine has done some valuable early
interviews and collating but is learning about non-linear
approaches and non-specific deadlines.

13 October
7.10 pick-up for → HP.
Off set much utterly unmissable chat between Maggie and
Michael about days at the NT, Olivier, Coward, Edith Evans
then talk of what’s upcoming. ‘Serena (Ian McK.) is doing his
Dame,’ says Michael. At first I thought he’d said ‘Arena is doing
the Dame.’ ‘Judi?’ I enquired to blank faces. Once corrected, I
proffered, ‘That’ll be packed.’ ‘With what?’ says Maggie.

18 October
HARRY POTTER.
2 words. Completely meaningless ones. Various times,
various angles and then we’re out of there. This could be stir
crazy time.

20 October
2.30 → more sitting down in the Great Hall. ‘Which
expression did you use?’ says Maggie. Earlier Zoë had called.
Did I think she should play La Poncia in Bernarda Alba? I
couldn’t raise huge enthusiasm. Zoë said Maggie had originally
been asked to play B.A. Her responses ranged from ‘I don’t
want to play that ghastly old bag’ to ‘Whatever happened to
light comedy?’ To me she said ‘I mean, can you imagine me
saying “The men are still in the fields . . .”’

21 October
6.30 Peter Mandelson’s leaving party. Odd to be apologising for
leaving as one arrives. Through a glass darkly I lip read Andrew
Rawnsley27 saying ‘Quite a week’ to Geoff Hoon.28 Sally
Greene29 chilly as per usual, Gail Rebuck30 still wants a book.

29 October
HP.
9am The Trophy Room – which after a few stories may be
renamed the Ben Kingsley Room or as Duncan Heath says
later . . . it would be in his contract to make it the Sir Ben
Kingsley Room. What makes someone so obsessed by all that
stuff? Not a trace from Michael, Ian, Maggie, Judi etc., etc.
The most profound insecurity I suppose.

11 November
HP.
7.15 pick-up.
In Dumbledore’s office with Maggie . . . My speech is
unlearnable. So some serious laughing goes on. Plus Maggie’s
stories of the Ladies in Lavender premiere: ‘Miriam Margolyes
looked like a Sherman tank in sequins.’

15 November
3pm Cutter and Gross [opticians] to get Rima an eye test and
new glasses. Staggering prices . . .
 Today I made the Vogue list and was a question on University
Challenge (they hadn’t a clue).

17 November
HP.
7.15 pick-up.
Running in, pointing a wand. Expensive Dr Who stuff.
Maggie and Michael really beginning to tire now – as in join
the queue – of this monumental waste of energies.

23 November
HP.
7.15 pick-up.
For the only Snape v Potter scene of the film and of course I
get shafted. First, the line-up at 8 was with a stand-in. Why not
tell me beforehand – we are basically rehearsing. Then the
announcement which said they were going for a ridiculous
number of set-ups. So we all had to be super-on-the-ball,
please.

7 December
HP.
7.40 pick-up.
Great Hall. Yule Ball . . . An attempt was made to get me to
dance. Why? With whom? For what reason? Better to not be
there, but if that is not an option then he would, quite
unselfconsciously, just observe.
8pm Home to news of inflammatory headlines in the
Independent re Rachel Corrie31 project. Of course the journalist
at the Women in Film Awards was from the Mail and not from
the Independent as she claimed.
Later talking to Sigourney about Mrs Farnworth and Snow
Cake. If our combined wills were enough.
8 December
HP.
Two days of just standing very still, applauding twice, and
watching the others dance.
But also two days of real progress with the Rachel Corrie
piece. So much so that coupled with yesterday’s shenanigans –
it might even lead us not to include much (if any) of the Gaza
material. Her journey seems so detailed already.

13 December
HP. LAST DAY?
7am pick-up.
Last scene with Pedja32 who I rudely described as [like]
working with a sideboard on wheels. Nothing to do with him
as a (complex, delightful) person but more to do with the way
he manages to bang into you at any opportunity.
I feel so shafted on this film with all Mike’s33 best motives.
He’s under pressure (like Alfonso) and everything is about the
shot. We only talk about the scene on about take 4. Plus ça
change.
2.30 My Name Is Rachel Corrie. First reading.

21 December
Heathrow → Hong Kong.
2pm Car → Heathrow.
Where we discover that we aren’t going to Shanghai (no
visa) but can go to Hong Kong. A better option as it turns out
since there are four flights a day to Manila from there. After a
bit of toing and froing at Hong Kong Airport . . . we opt for
staying overnight. Peninsula Hotel. Spectacular views of the
spectacular harbour.
 Supper on 28th floor of One Peking . . . They warned us
about the spicy cabbage rolls but we went ahead. I managed
one, Rima a half. Mouths aflame.

22 December
Hong Kong → Manila.

24 December
Manila → Amanpulo.

25 December
Amanpulo.
Awake at 5.20? Waiting for the dawn – make some tea,
watch CNN on repeat, get up, eat mangoes, drink bucks fizz,
open presents, go to clubhouse for breakfast, back to Casita to
lie on beach lounger, to boathouse to watch children from
neighbouring island dance in brilliant red, white, yellow &
pink clothes – not a smile in sight but with the lightest of hands
and feet, back to the lounger, up to the Casita for
pedicure/manicure to the strains of ‘That’s Amore’ – Dean
Martin from the Christmas gift CD as I doze fitfully and dream
crazily – all the time reading Geoff Dyer’s Yoga for People Who
Can’t Be Bothered to Do It – or did I read it? Or did I write it?
Must ask him. All lines are blurred. Possibly by how seductive
is all this perfection and how – arranged . . .
7.30 Turkey dinner. But boneless with prune? Walnut?
Stuffing & mash. Perfect.
1
American actor Gabrielle Union (1972–)
2
2003 film about two young climbers, Joe Simpson (Brendan Mackey) and Simon
Yates (Nicholas Aaron) who come unstuck while climbing in the Andes
3
Daughter of JFK
4
Additional dialogue recording
5
Re trip to Kenya
6
English actor (1962–)
7
English actor (1944–)
8
Directed by Michael Boyd with Toby Stephens as Hamlet
9
English actor Richard Griffiths (1947–2013)
10
Welsh actor Clive Merrison (1945–)
11
Good Morning America
12
Canadian actor (1950–)
13
Robert David MacDonald (1929–2004), Scottish playwright and theatre director,
Glasgow Citizens Theatre
14
Giles Havergal, theatre director (1938–), worked with RDM at Citizens Theatre
15
Philip Prowse (1937–), theatre director and designer at Citizens Theatre
16
South African businessman and benefactor
17
Backdrop to a number of paintings by David Hockney
18
The Long Distance Runner: A Memoir
19
English actor (1950–)
20
British boxer (1986–)
21
A.R. was nominated for Best Actor for Something the Lord Made, but the award
went to Al Pacino.
22
Welsh actor (1933–)
23
English actor (1934–)
24
Labour politician (1938–), married to Kathy Lette
25
Mother of theatre director, Nick Hytner
26
With whom A.R. was working on My Name Is Rachel Corrie
27
British journalist (1962–)
28
Labour politician (1953–), then Secretary of State for Defence
29
Chief Executive of the Old Vic
30
Chief Executive of Random House UK
31
Rachel Corrie, who was born in the United States in 1979, visited Gaza as a
student and became involved in the campaign to prevent the demolition by the
Israeli army of Palestinian houses. On 16 March 2003, she was crushed to death by
an Israel Defense Forces armoured vehicle. Whether this was a deliberate act or an
accident is disputed. In 2005, her parents, Craig and Cindy Corrie, filed a civil
lawsuit against the state of Israel. That same year, A.R. and the journalist Katharine
Viner produced the play My Name Is Rachel Corrie. It opened in London and was to
transfer to the New York Theatre Workshop but was postponed indefinitely, which
A.R. denounced as censorship. Eventually, it opened off Broadway on 15 October
2006, having earlier been part of the Edinburgh Fringe.
32
Predrag Bjelac, Czech-Serbian actor (1962–)
33
Mike Newell, director
 2005
AMANPULO – MANILA – MY NAME IS RACHEL CORRIE –
PARIS – SHEILA GISH, DENIS LAWSON – TORONTO –
SNOW CAKE – VANCOUVER–SEATTLE–LOS ANGELES –
ROBBIE WILLIAMS – LONDON BOMBING –
CAMPAGNATICO – BARCELONA, PERFUME – KEVIN
SPACEY – BOOKER PRIZE – LOS ANGELES – TOM WAITS –
NOBEL SON – MAUREEN LIPMAN – NEW YORK –
MUNICH

1 January
AMANPULO.
The tsunami1 stories endlessly coming in on CNN & BBC World.
It seems like time is standing still – ironic given the date.

4 January
Manila → Hong Kong → New York.

7 January
Heard today that Lord Attenborough lost a daughter and
granddaughter in the tsunami.
5pm Sigourney W. to the hotel for a drink.

9 January
New York → London.
 Illustrations from Alan’s original diaries.
All images courtesy of Rima Horton/the Estate of Alan Rickman
unless otherwise stated.
Savouring a perfect day in the park. (30 June 2013)
Holidaying in Pringle Bay, South Africa. (3-4 January 2015)
‘A delightful evening’ in the company of friends. (31 August 2013)
On the beach in South Africa. (New Year’s Eve, 2014)
Filming ‘The Boathouse Scene’ – otherwise known as ‘the Death of
Snape’ – in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2. (26
November 2009)

LANDMARK MEDIA/Alamy Stock Photo

 Photograph copyright © Tristram Kenton

On stage: Alan in Antony and Cleopatra (1998) at the Olivier Theatre

with Helen Mirren, and Private Lives (2001) at the Albery Theatre
with Lindsay Duncan.

LANDMARK MEDIA/Alamy Stock Photo

 Photo 12/Alamy Stock Photo

As the criminal mastermind Hans Gruber in Die Hard (1988), Alan’s

movie debut, and opposite Juliet Stevenson in Truly, Madly, Deeply
(1990).

Everett Collection Inc/Alamy Stock Photo

 Moviestore Collection Ltd/Alamy Stock Photo

Photo 12/Alamy Stock Photo

In Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991), An Awfully Big Adventure

(1995) and Sense and Sensibility (1995).
 Maximum Film/Alamy Stock Photo

As Éamon de Valera in Michael Collins (1996) with Liam Neeson in

the title role, and in Dogma (1999), in which Alan was a fallen angel
with a pair of backbreaking wings.
 LANDMARK MEDIA/Alamy Stock Photo

Album/Alamy Stock Photo

In the romantic comedy Love Actually (2003) with Emma Thompson,

and as the much-loved wizard Severus Snape in Harry Potter and the
Goblet of Fire (2005).
At the première of the play My Name Is Rachel Corrie (2006).

Pictorial Press Ltd/Alamy Stock Photo

Alan co-wrote with Katharine Viner.

 Moviestore Collection Ltd/Alamy Stock Photo

In Perfume (2006), an adaptation of the novel by Patrick Süskind.

Alongside Colin Firth in Gambit (2012).

Filming A Little Chaos (2014), which Alan directed and starred in as

Louis XIV.
 Photographs from Alan’s personal collection, including two with his
soulmate Rima Horton - on the set of A Little Chaos and on a trip to
Alaska - whom he met as a teenager. They married in New York in
2012.
9.10 → Heathrow. Being recognised has perks when you are
escorted and cosseted like this. And Virgin’s flat beds meant that we
got about 3 hours’ sleep.

12 January
I had been fairly pissed off at the fact that work2 had gone on in my
absence and without my knowledge but in a way it became very
focusing to compare the two edits.
What emerges is hopefully an accurate portrait and something that
Megan3 can inhabit and reinvent.

15 January
Somewhere this week, Prince Harry goes to a fancy dress party
wearing a shirt with a swastika on the sleeve. Idiot. But how
predictable to see the tabloids pounce and it is like another tsunami
seeing the front pages and headlines cleared to make room.

22 January
Harrods. Last day of the sale. Time to spend more money. Buy more
clothes. And especially an espresso/cappuccino maker.

25 January
11.30 Royal Court.
Working through notes and alternative versions. The job now is
not to lose its musicality whilst allowing some leeway in. The Corrie
family are apparently happy, and feel that we have caught the real
Rachel. A huge plus.

27 January
5.30 To David Hare. Who seems to talk about the production rather
than the text which is reassuring in a way – and it’s good to have
those questions asked. In the manner of a scythe.

31 January
Rima’s birthday.
1pm Royal Court – Matt Hood from Equity. The problem of
collecting subscriptions when the union is no longer a closed shop,
and rich actors say ‘Why am I paying this money?’

1 February
7 Chloe Fremantle’s private view. Curwen Gallery. Her paintings are
like herself contained, courteous, sensitive, searching, full of the past,
infused with something less tangible than the present. Alan
Hollinghurst was there. I bet he admires their elegance and daring.

24 February
11 Royal Court.
First half – 35 mins.
Full of joys. I find myself searching for the political animal and we
talk about all of that quite openly.
Lunch.
Second half – 50 mins.
Will be faster but it means the whole evening will be 1½ hours.
Clearly work to do but here is the end of a massive first phase.
Now it’s a period of learning for Megan before we start again on the
7th. Where the personal/political balance will be number one
consideration . . .

27 February
PARIS.
Late am Carnavalet Museum. Mme de Sévigné’s rooms . . .
1.20 To Isabelle [Huppert]’s apartment. For a cup of tea. Brave soul
– her home has the decorators, she’s trying to pack and she has a
matinée.
3pm Hedda Gabler. The slowness, the attention to detail, the epic
rather than the domestic scale, it all had. It felt like Greek tragedy.
And Isabelle was mesmeric & detailed and magnificent.

4 March
12 Cosimo & Paloma.
To talk of Campagnatico which, hopefully, will be done by June.
Back to choosing taps and toilets.

7 March
12 Start working with Megan.
Not at my best. And Megan slips so easily on to the back foot – a
comfortable place – with one eyebrow raised. But we press on and
there are some great discoveries.
9 March
. . . brave, beautiful Sheila Gish has died. It was like a slow crescendo.
But so desperately unfair. Impossible to make much sense except the
humbling courage.

13 March
5.15 Car → Guildhall. Empire Awards. More like 5.40 dash. But all is
OK. They haven’t sat down when we got there. Kevin Smith,
Jennifer, Jason, Matt Damon, Mel & Pam, Helen M., etc., etc., etc.
Stephen Frears – of course – free meal. Made speech, gave award to
Kevin. Later took them all to Waterloo Bridge – the only bit of
sightseeing they have done in 5 days.

16 March
Second anniversary of Rachel Corrie’s death.
12 Meeting with press and front of house to discuss strategy and
possible interviews.
Rehearse. After lighting a candle next to some flowers and
Rachel’s picture.

22 March
Sheila Gish’s funeral.
12 St Michael’s Church, Highgate.
The applause started as Sheila’s coffin – covered with painted
sunflowers – came up the aisle. This was totally secular and started off
brilliantly by Frankie de la Tour – Shall I compare thee to a summer’s
day? We all sang B.B. King. Lindsay – Meals on Mules – wonderful.
And so it went on towards the massive applause.
6 No 1 The Aldwych. People still hanging on to each other in the
bar when I got there. Then a bunch of us went downstairs for dinner
with Denis4, who looked calm, watchful and on a nearby, other,
planet.

27 March
9am → Toronto.
[Re Snow Cake]
30 March
9 pick-up to go trampolining which I seem to have a fairly
predictable talent for. Mix dance and high jumping I guess.
Unsurprisingly, like skiing, I also sense the thrill of danger and start
jumping too high too soon . . .
12 Read through.

3 April
10.35 To rehearsal rooms.
For a day of, basically, letting Sigourney stretch her wings, arms,
legs until the point where I had to call her on the incessant rewriting
of a script we’ve just spent a week writing. Why oh why do they all
do this? It means no value is given to silence or thinking – just fill the
air with improvised garbage – always have the last line in a scene.

5 April
9 pick-up for trampolining. I could get used to this. The moment
where you ‘hang’ is supposed to be very health-giving.

6 April
6.15 Toronto → London.

7 April
Slept 4 hours. Thank you, little white pills.
7.45 My Name Is Rachel Corrie. First preview. I find myself
mentally blotting out all the good stuff and focusing only on where it
needs to get on with it. But Megan is amazing and there is nothing
but massive approval for the work afterwards. Including ‘praise
indeed’ from Edna.

8 April
Kath Viner’s piece is in the Guardian today and is very good for the
whole enterprise. A slight stab of wondering if I have been too self-
effacing. But as I keep saying, this is all about Rachel and her family.
3.15 Heathrow → Toronto.

12 April
Wawa [township in Ontario, where Snow Cake is being filmed]
5.30 wake up.
6.05 Back to car wreck and the very disturbing sensation of being
strapped in upside down in a car. Followed by backward tumbling
down a slope. Followed by shock/vomit work.
Back at the log cabin and into the bath. Or more accurately lie
down in the shower tray.

14 April
Wawa.
Last night [in London] the audience stood for Megan. She looked
at Craig & Cindy and burst into tears.
Spoke to Ian [Rickson] at the Court. He wants to move the show
downstairs in August.
1pm Called Megan in her dressing room. Seeming calm. Ready.
Proud. Attagirl.
pm As far as accuracy is concerned, working with Sigourney is like
working with an autistic. As I told her, the job is going to be about
her need for freedom – absolutely right – and my need for tension in
the scene as well. Conundrum.

15 April
Wawa.
5.42am. The other person that lives in my brain box is already up
and dressed. Metaphorically, since I’m actually trying to get back to
sleep. Too much to think about in order to cancel out brainbox
person. So light on. Pick up pen. The main superficial brood subject
is that S.W. has the personal hair and make-up people and that these
ministrations are done in a special raised area in the van. Not sure
that this elitism (which I find hilarious in other circumstances) is
useful on this occasion.

18 April
Wawa.
Somewhere around lunchtime phone Megan in her dressing room.
Saturday pm she was wasted . . . and if there is any future for this
show she needs to be paid properly. But the reviews are the kind
which begs the show to have a longer life so the pressure will be on.

21 April
Wawa.
Another 14-hour day.
A phone call from Judy Hoflund who is spending the next 6 weeks
in England producing a film of As You Like It. This was the first time
she’d mentioned it. Why do I find this mind-frazzling?

19 May
TORONTO.
8.45 pick-up.
Filming the goodbye between Alex [A.R.’s character] and Linda
[S.W.’s character] was appropriately matter of fact and throat-catching.
In a way it matched the mood on the set. When you’ve all been so
close and now you’ll probably never see most of these people again.
And this has been, with all the high-nooning with S.W., the most
incredibly shared experience I’ve ever had. A real journey.
11 The worst anti-climax imaginable. Gina [Carter, producer] &
Jessica [Daniel, producer] walk towards me, the crew whizz banging
behind me, and say ‘We’re pulling it – it’s going to take an hour to
light.’ If only I had thought more clearly I would – and should – have
said ‘Liars – it’s not about light it’s about money.’ As it was we just
sizzled & puttered our way to the wrap party in a coitus interruptus
daze.

1 June
Vancouver/Tofino.

3 June
Tofino.
Whale-watching trip. One glimpse of a grey whale’s back and
several spouts of spray.
Back to the hotel pm while Rima is on the birdwatching trail.
Watch the birth of new superstar Rafael Nadal known in Spain as
Rafa. Even the name works everywhere.
 8 Shelter [restaurant].
Really good cooking of the thick-pork-chop-on-mashed-
potatoes-plus-asparagus-&-port-jus variety.
Too much of my journals seem to be about food and almost
nothing about exercise . . . and the waistline expands . . .

4 June
Tofino → Sooke Harbour.

5 June
Sooke → Victoria → Seattle → Olympia.
2.15 Seattle – Cindy & Craig Corrie there to collect us. And now
begins the strange journey past road signs, down streets I know so
well but have never visited before.

6 June
OLYMPIA.
9.15 Wander along the boardwalk, Craig coming towards us. A
coffee in the market by the water.
‘Hey, are you that actor guy?’
Well, that’s a label.
‘What? Sorry – didn’t mean to offend.’

7 June
Seattle → Laguna.

25 June
Laguna → LA.

29 June
Los Angeles → London.
5.30 Virgin → London.
Robbie Williams on the flight, presumably free (why would he
want the hassle and general bus station of it all?) and on his way to
Live 8 concert.
7 July
The day the bombs hit London. Absolute pillar to post – from the
euphoric yesterday5 to the numbness of today. A bus and three? four?
stations. Hundreds injured and (as of today) 37 killed.
Bush has the nerve to talk of ‘the killing of innocent people’ and
Blair feels it necessary to use his ‘I am moved’ voice. Real tragedy
wherever you look from whatever angle but threaded with hypocrisy
as ever.
Newsnight has Paxman pressing his tired old buttons in, of all
people, Tony Benn who as far as I can see is making perfect sense.
We stayed home all day. Answered worried phone calls. Watched
TV. Stared at it all.

20 July
London → Rome → Campagnatico.
4.30 Paloma plus Claudio, Lia and others are there looking slightly
amazed that the house is habitable at all. Paloma with a dab of white
paint on her cheek. She and Cosi have done a wonderful job. There’s
a terrace. There are bathrooms. Storage. It’s a house let free.

25 July
The others head off to the beach. I stayed to give job list to Claudio.
Just as well. As Lia is leaving she points out that the electricity is off.
Call Paloma, call Claudio, call Raimondo – who comes and says it’s
nothing to do with his work. I have Yellow Pages, its ENEL6 – find
ENEL bill, call them, 40 mins later they arrive, slip switch outside
and leave. Me none wiser. LEARN ITALIAN.

7 August
11 Uncle Vic – who apparently is doing really well, but his first
words were ‘Alan! My, you’re getting tall . . .’

15 August
The flight no one wants to make. To Toronto for Luke Greenblatt’s
funeral. Just before leaving, a message from Kate [Luke’s mother]
asking me to speak. Spent some of the flight writing it. Which got
some of the tears out of the way.
20 August
→ Barcelona – Perfume.
5ish Ritz (but incorporating dispute, now Palace) Hotel.
This could be time for foot-stamping. Certainly a time for yelling
‘Hello?’ since there was nobody on Reception and the concierge
wasn’t budging. ‘Not today,’ was the horrified response to a request
for a DVD. Lonely little mini-bar, limited room service, polyester
pillows.

21 August
New pillows, extra hangers, DVD player on its way.

22 August
4pm Riding lesson.

23 August
Day One, Perfume.

24 August
Late pm pick-up. Rehearsal w. Ben Whishaw and eventually shoot
bedroom scenes with him and Rachel [Hurd-Wood]. Tom [Tykwer,
director] maintains extraordinary temperament – detailed,
enthusiastic, supportive and hallelujah – two [able directors] in a row
– vulnerable.
Back at the hotel at 5.20am.

25 August
Sleep till 12.30.
4.30 pick-up.
On Tambo the Big Black Horse. Legs too short to jack-knife me
into the saddle.
Home at 2am.

26 August
7pm To the set w. Rima and Arlene who hang out heroically 1am-ish
for dinner. I’m less heroic given the agony of my shoes.
 7am Back to the hotel → for bacon & eggs . . . Half of my brain
says ‘stay up – you’re awake now’ – the sensible half says ‘no you’re
not’ and I collapse into bed and sleep until 2pm.

29 August
3pm Press Conference.
‘Rachel, how is it to be so beautiful?’
‘Alan, what are the smells of Barcelona?’

5 September
The town square week starts. Go to the set & watch 750 people get
naked.
8.45 Casa Calvet.
Calvet family house by Gaudí. The restaurant is in what were his
offices. Utterly beautiful – white tiles, polished floors, wooden
compartments, stained glass. Appalling food. Ben (of simple food
tastes) gets an unannounced pile of pasta in squid ink.

10 September
pm Kevin Spacey calls from his dressing room during the tech for
Richard II. He talks of having loved working with Trevor Nunn, I tell
him of walking through a crowd of 750 naked fucking people and
the urge to lift a mini camera from the costume pocket. ‘Make
friends with the stills photographer,’ he says, wisely.
They want me to be in Arthur Miller’s Resurrection Blues, to be
directed by Altman in February. Hmmm.

26 September
Navata (Figueres).
10.40 pick-up and out almost to the French border. Beautiful
piece of countryside . . . for the ride into the mountains.
Rambo (my horse) of course gets freaked out by 1½ inches of
water (it was a grating last time) so everything is delayed while he is
acquainted with it.

30 September
Figueres (Navata).
 3pm Drive to Barcelona Airport.
6.30 → London.

3 October
5pm Ann McFerran for an interview – Sunday Times.
Still they want to talk about stuff from 20 years ago or HP, HP, HP.
Should I be surprised . . .?

9 October
8 Dinner for Sebastian Barry, Alison, Chris, Ruby & Conor.
Pre Booker Prize.
Sebastian his fluid mix of wise and boyish. ‘Get your hands in
clapping position’ is our concerted advice.

10 October
Sebastian didn’t win (John Banville did).

13 October
7.30 Preview. ‘A disaster’ strikes Megan in the dressing room. Hardly,
but the piece has inbuilt dangers if she sits back on it too much.
Tonight was a demonstration of how hard she has to work at this
piece. One or two sections carry her but the rest is full of ideas and
images which have to be realised and shaped here and now.

14 October
7 Press night.
Megan on utterly inspired form. One of the great nights ever in
the theatre. A full house completely inside the play with her. I stood
at the back [and] glanced occasionally at the concentration on the
audience’s faces. Made 6 notes. Breathed out.

16 October
Figueres.
11.15 → Barcelona.
8pm pick-up.
 For the torture chamber in a castle (17th c.) which had housed
30,000 soldiers at one time. Now it’s home to a big vat of water for
Ben to be doused in. Turns out the scene also includes a voice saying
1-2-3 before each dousing. What would Stanislavsky suggest?
Somehow we make it through and then there’s clapping and goodbye
Richis [A.R.’s character] and flowers. Was it paranoia that made me
think the flowers were not so much presented as thrust . . .

17 October
Figueres.
4am to bed.
8am Hear the cars coming back from the set.
8.30[pm] Wrap party in the Spa Restaurant which actually turned
out to be a v. good venue. I . . . was forced into making a speech of
sorts . . . Then Ben hits the microphone and says, quite rightly, ‘No
one’s listening anyway – let’s get drunk.’

25 October
6pm Chelsea College Lecture Hall.
Interview/chat with Andrew Marr. Who is brilliant at
simultaneously listening acutely and moving it on before I get too
entrenched anywhere. It gives me the oddest sensation – almost
pleasant – of being candid and discreet.

28 October
Los Angeles.
1.55 → Los Angeles.
Judy H. and Bianca Jagger on the plane. They were both at the
play last night.

29 October
7.15 Marcia collects me and we’re off to the Kirk Douglas Theatre
for a benefit for the homeless. Alfre [Woodard], Don Cheadle, Eva
Mendes, Morgan Freeman, Marisa Tomei, Tim Robbins. And at the
piano a few feet away and worth the ticket alone – Tom Waits. V.
well put together hour or so of testimonies and T.W. sang 3 songs. I
sat sort of floating during ‘Waltzing Matilda’.
 9.30 Four great words – I MET TOM WAITS. Who turns out to
be stylish, gentle (which those plangent piano chords now seem to
suggest, totally).

31 October
7.10 pick-up. Nobel Son. Day One.

3 November
Los Angeles.
To the Park Plaza Hotel.
‘Hello Lindy,7 I’m Alan.’
And straight into sex across the office desk.
7pm Sit at lunch (dinner) with Mary [Steenburgen] & Ted Danson
[talking] of things in general and US specific . . . Mary talks of Bill
Clinton with real affection and admiration about his lack of vanity
and passion for problem solving. Ted with all his instant
recognisability is all curiosity.

4 November
3 women take their clothes off and we do in flagrante poses. ‘Hello.
Do you mind if I hook my thumb in your G String?’

7 November
A fax from David Johnson [producer] full of his support for My Name
Is Rachel Corrie and containing news of Maureen Lipman’s piece in
the Guardian.

8 November
In the car on the way to the set I start composing a letter to Maureen
Lipman. Doubtless it could become a standard letter.

28 November
12.45 Evening Standard Theatre Awards lunch.
Talked to Maureen Lipman about her Rachel Corrie remarks in
the Guardian – I now have the feeling she has confused the [Royal]
Court with the Hackney Empire.
 Brian Friel and I exchanged mimes. ME-YOU-WRITE./I-YOU-
WRITE./GET-ON-WITH-IT-THEN.

30 November
Theatregoer.com nominations. We are nominated in Best Solo
Performance, Best Play & Best Director.
pm Elyse Dodgson calls to say that MNIRC has been nominated
for a South Bank Show Award – along with Mary Stuart and The
Philanthropist.
The Standard is beginning to look plain rude. Or censored,
perhaps.

1 December
8.30am. 149 Harley Street, Professor Justin Vale.
Finally all the Doctor’s entries from June come to a diagnosis. Call
it PC.8 Justin Vale is clear and hopeful. It’s the brain, the will,
everything clamps down like the metal sides on those jam jars. He
says you won’t hear a word. I strain to hear every word.
I sat with his receptionist making appointments and getting BUPA
clearance. This is all happening on a cloud.
A dizziness and a blackness seems in danger of swamping me. This
may be a diary too far.

2 December
Talk to Jeremy L. who has been there and is wonderfully calm and
sensitive.
A message on the machine from Jeremy – did I want him to come
over? A friend.

7 December
Enjoyed hanging out at home in a dressing gown for most of the day.
This is all a big clue – to stop running so much. And to run (as in
exercise) a bit more.

8 December
3[pm] 149 Harley Street. MRI.
9 December
Kath Viner calls to tell me that Maureen Lipman has said ‘Mea culpa’
in today’s Guardian. Good for Maureen.

15 December
6 And finally news from Justin Vale’s secretary that the scans are clear.

20 December
8pm Sting and Trudie’s Russian Imperial party in their new/old
house in Queen Anne’s Gate. Horse drawn carriages outside (we
went round the block later) . . . A snow-covered garden leading on to
a snowstorm in St James’s Park . . . A caviar corner . . .

22 December
The Lister Clinic. Grosvenor Rooms.
To talk through the options. I’m not really any clearer. Each
consultant pressing the claims of his own speciality.
6–9 Helena and Iain.
Alastair Campbell on free and easy form. I gave him my little spiel
on how I’ve never met a curious politician – one who asks questions
rather than makes little speeches – exceptions, on reflection, are of
course Neil Kinnock and now I think of it Robin Cook.

23 December
. . . the heat has disappeared again.

28 December
9.30 car → Heathrow → New York.

30 December
11am Munich.
It’s like Spielberg is already on to his next film while he’s shooting
the one we’re watching . . . so what we get has an aridity to it. And
its admirable efforts to be non-judgemental render it soulless.
1
On 26 December 2004 an earthquake struck the west coast of Sumatra, Indonesia,
generating a series of enormous waves with devastating and far-reaching effect. It is
estimated that at least 227,000 people were killed in fourteen countries, the worst affected of
which were Indonesia, Malaysia, Maldives, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Seychelles, Thailand and
Somalia. It was the single worst tsunami in modern history.
2
On My Name Is Rachel Corrie
3
American-British actor Megan Dodds (1970–), playing Rachel Corrie
4
Denis Lawson, Scottish actor and director (1947–), and Sheila Gish’s husband
5
London had just won the bid to host the 2012 Olympics.
6
Italian energy company
7
Lindy Booth, Canadian actor (1979–)
8
A.R. was diagnosed with prostate cancer.
 2006
NASHVILLE – HARRY POTTER 5 – BERLIN – SNOW
CAKE – ULLAPOOL – MY NAME IS RACHEL CORRIE
– VANESSA REDGRAVE – LYNN BARBER – LUCIAN
FREUD – HARRY POTTER – RUBY WAX –
CAMPAGNATICO – RICHARD WILSON – NEW YORK
– EDINBURGH – SNOW CAKE – MUNICH – NEW
YORK – PERFUME – ANDREW MARR – CHRISTMAS
WITH NATASHA RICHARDSON AND LIAM NEESON
(AND MIA FARROW, BETTE MIDLER, MERYL
STREEP, STANLEY TUCCI . . .)

4 January
2pm → Nashville.
3.30 Collected and taken to Vanderbilt for pre-op talks and
to meet Dr Jay Smith1 – calm, centred and sensitive man.

5 January
5am Wake up.
5.45 Driven to the hospital.
6am Pre-op.
This is like a film set. Nothing seems real.
Remembering nothing but with that painkiller high in the
recovery room. Attentive, caring people.
To my room. David, the ace nurse awaits. Rima is there
(with book).
pm Dr Smith calls in.
9pm Rima goes back to the hotel after we watch with
sublime irreverence Dancing with the Stars.
 The new details de jour are all about various pain control
positions or drugs and tubes seemingly everywhere.

6 January
Woken through the night.
6.30am Doctor visit. Begin to feel full impact of life changes.
11 Rima arrives/lunch/some walking.
pm Roxy [nurse] takes Rima to Target to buy food,
sweatpants etc.

7 January
Feeling cold through the night. Stomach tightening.
Amazing what a walk and patience in the toilet will do.
Dr Smith comes by and this literate, aware man asks direct
intelligent questions about my work . . . and tells me to stay in
another day.

8 January
5am Patience is rewarded – enough gas to power a brass band.
7 The doctors come round and after dealing with catheters
and drainage, finally, nervously get to the point – ‘How did you
do the fall at the end of Die Hard?’
Check-out and → Hermitage Hotel for a week in
Downtown Nashville. Dr Smith, Tour Guide, says Graceland is
200 miles (too far) away – suggests a visit to Jack Daniel’s
brewery. Even though it’s a dry state, so no free samples.
The hotel fits the bill perfectly. Late pm – wandering the
quiet Nashville streets. Very Alphaville. The odd guy in a
cowboy hat.
‘Catheter College’ now has a new graduate.

13 January
A fax from Gina – Snow Cake is the opening night film at the
Berlin Film Festival. Then a message that MNIRC has won
Best New Play, Best Solo Performance and Best Director at
TheatreGoer/whatson.com awards. So no Friday the 13th
rubbish this year.
Grey, rainy day so after a sandwich and coffee hightail it back
to the hotel.
This is like being in hiding. Which, in a way, it is.

16 January
7.45am → Vanderbilt.
Dr Smith pulls out remaining tubes etc. and rips off plasters.
All with his trademark air of quiet dignity and sustained
wisdom.

17 January
Reporting in some triumph to Dr Smith that it was a dry
night. Standing up and moving around are the problem areas.
But he seemed pleased, and it means I could dump a lot of the
packages.
Rima doing rest of dumping, sauntering innocently towards
public garbage bins.
3.25 → Nashville to LaGuardia and then → Mercer Hotel.

22 January
London.
At home with a pile of mail.

24 January
11.30 David Coppard.
Which contains the piquant info that HP 4 paid less than HP
3 thanks to exchange rate.

30 January
Finally, yes to HP 5. The sensation is neither up nor down.
The argument that wins is the one that says ‘See it through. It’s
your story.’ Added to the 7 weeks per film clause.

8 February
Spoke to Andrew Ward2 and finalised plans to travel to
Ullapool for the Great Birthday Escape. Wilderness, old friends
who got engaged in our flat, now with 1-year-old boy. Seems
like good karma. And train rides. Books and windows.
Plus – a phone call from Francine LeFrak full of foreboding
about MNIRC in New York. As I said – it’s happening and I
can’t (won’t) cut it. The US fights for free speech but
censorship is important, too, it seems.

9 February
7[am] car for 8.55 → Berlin. Regent Hotel (ex 4 Seasons) in
the Bentley. (A couple of leaning-on-the-bonnet photos and
it’s ours for the duration.)
9 Snow Cake opening night film. Berlin Film Festival. And
the film looks good up there. This little miracle becomes a kind
of epic. They listen and laugh and clap loud and long. It’s like a
row of cherries on a one-armed bandit.

17 February
Call Diane Borger [general manager] at Royal Court with
news from David Johnson that Michael Moore has given us
$10,000 to hear that NYTW3 wants to ‘postpone for a year’,
which is euphemism for ‘We’re getting frightened, no PR firm
will touch us and we don’t have the guts to just say NO.’

18 February
Phone lines back and forthing and having to give the news to
Megan. Diane is organised, Elyse her usual passionate self,
Megan wonderfully calm. David Johnson talks of West End
before America, Elyse wants to expose the whole story, Diane
wants to tread carefully, Megan will stay strong at the centre. As
I said to Diane, we’re not living in New York, we don’t know
the pressures – but a little honesty would have gone a long way.
To use the Hamas government as a reason to postpone is
ridiculous – how can you guarantee what the situation will be
in a month, 6 months, a year or 10 years? Moral cowardice has
to be dressed in any old clothes to disguise it. Or is it just
fascism? Certainly, censorship is back.

19 February
8pm Euston. The Caledonian Sleeper to Inverness. Supper. A
pill, which works for maybe 2 hours. Then the night is
punctuated by lurches and earsplitting alarms.

20 February
9.30 – Inverness ½ hour late. Met by nice lady with car for the
1½ hr’s drive to Ullapool and the Ceilidh Place hotel.
12.30 Lunch at the hotel with Andrew and Kerstin and
Carlin. I really like this child.
Drive to the layby at the far end of the towpath to the
lighthouse next to the plot of land A&K hope to build on.
Windswept and glorious with the Stornaway Ferry passing
twice a day.
6pm Andrew collects us. To their cottage for seaweed w.
oats/haggis, neeps and tatties. Absolutely wonderful Scottish
soulfood. And Kerstin is right about the grain issues. Don’t
grind until you need to. The stomach has no complaints
whatsoever for a change.

21 February
Birthday in a Celtic wilderness.
Andrew took us to see his painting store, played some
Martyn Bennett music, took us home to blow out some
candles and then we sallied forth on the road to Achiltibuie and
nearby beach for wandering and a picnic.
 7ish. Dinner at the hotel . . . Later Jean Urquhart4 joins and,
SNP councillor that she is, chat ensues. To bed, feeling that the
day had a forward momentum – not sentimental, backward-
glancing torpor.

27 February
Chat with Kath Viner at the Guardian. Royal Court wants to
stay neutral.
Rachel Corrie lived in nobody’s pocket but her own. This is
censorship born out of fear. Whether one is sympathetic to her
or not, her voice is like a clarion in the fog and should be
heard.

28 February
And stuff appears in newsprint. ‘Rickman slams . . .’ etc., etc.
But basically fair coverage of the situation. Tim Robbins calls. Do
it in LA.
pm Checking Kath Viner’s copy for tomorrow’s Guardian
comment. Requests to give interviews or appear on Dimbleby
at the weekend. No to everything. Let’s just do the play and let
Rachel Corrie speak for herself.

2 March
Most of the day on the phone to Diane at the Court, to Cindy
& Craig Corrie, to David Johnson . . . Janine in the PR
department ‘doing her job’ of trying to persuade me to talk to
those nice newspaper people. IT’S NOT ABOUT ME I bleat.
BUT WE HAVE TO SELL IT they bleat back.

4 March
8 Lindsay & Hilton.
Talking to Diane on the way. She has spoken with Oskar
Eustis [NYC Public Theater] who is passionate that MNIRC
should come to NY if only to demonstrate that single groups
cannot close a show.
6 March
Faxes go back & forth from the Court, answering the NYTW
website. Now they want it in the NY Times.

7 March
Another NY Times piece, still landing me & my ‘film
commitments’ with the blame.

8 March
A fax from David Johnson eloquently asking for mercy for Jim5
at NYTW who may lose his job. This would be distressing for
everybody and as David said – it’s typical neo-con policy to
create unrest and then step back to watch the liberals tear each
other to pieces.
Diane . . . just wants Jim to stop talking to the press. And I
think there is no way the Court would work with them,
anyway. What a sad mess. But worse than that if there was
intervention from the Mayor of New York or the Chief Rabbi.

17 March
Talking to Uri [Andres] on the phone. He regrets that MNIRC
is on again. As Anna [Massey, his wife] later says, ‘He’s 80’ –
she says it with utter love and pride but as a helpful
explanation, too, with no further discussion necessary. And he’s
a Russian Jew so I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. For him the
past is the present.

19 March
Reading Lynn Barber’s interview with Vanessa Redgrave it’s
the same old dichotomy – it’s as much about the journalist as it
is the subject except the journalist is funny, forthright,
perceptive and gets to just leave at the end and have another say
until the next one, but at the same time I am seduced by her
complete lack of bullshit. Vanessa shouldn’t be subject to it,
however. She trails greatness behind her. What is Ms Barber’s
legacy?
24 March
Hear myself agree to go on the 10pm BBC1 news next
week . . . a day after I said no to Celebrity Show Jumping . . .

26 March
Feeling much less confident about talking to BBC News.
Whatever the sympathies they will come at it from a negative
standpoint and I will be placed on the defensive on a topic I
don’t have to defend. Plus the danger of internet editing.

28 March
8 My Name Is Rachel Corrie first preview.
Megan says she was terrified – you’d never know. And the
audience is standing at the end.

1 April
Ruby drives/takes a taxi to meet Sandra Kamen & Annie
Lennox & Barbara at the Wolseley. They have been to see
MNIRC. And have loved it . . . Neil Tennant across the way,
Lucian Freud behind us. You’re thinking ‘I’d be a patient model
– I promise. CHOOSE ME!!!’ Annie is a delightful soul with
such a strong strain of it’ll all turn out for the worst . . .

6 April
pm Watching Perfume. Tom has made a beautiful film. One is
totally unjudgemental of Grenouille (Ben – wonderful). Is the
beauty a problem for the sense of smell? And who is driving the
car?

12 April
6.45 pick-up HP.
I realise as soon as that [Snape’s] ring and costume go on –
something happens. It becomes alien to be chatty, smiley, open.
The character narrows me down, tightens me up. Not good
qualities on a film set. I have never been less communicative
with a crew. Fortunately, Dan [Radcliffe] fills that role with
ease and charm. And youth.
Home moments, it seems, before it’s time to get up again.

21 April
7am pick-up.
Great Hall revisited.
Along with Maggie and Michael. Hysterical laughter within
minutes – abetted by Imelda Staunton who told hilarious
stories of filming with Steven Seagal and meeting Bonnie
Zimmerman6 in the lift on the morning of the Oscars. ‘I have
to have you in my Diane Arbus movie. You play this character
with no arms or legs.’

24 April
11pm The Wolseley w. Ruby. Eventually having steered La
Wax away from some cheap Soho dive. She thinks the W. is
‘fancy shmancy’. She recants, [and] fesses that she’s doing
Celebrity Show Jumping. Plus ça change.

30 April
10.25 → New York.

4 May
9.30 Snow Cake.
Slightly murky projection but the film plays beautifully, the
audience is quiet or roaring whenever it cracks its whip. The
Q&A afterwards is calm & easy – filled with the confidence of
having made something decent.

5 May
. . . talking to Rima today – she lost her seat.7 And that is
seriously their loss and her freedom.

14 May
4 My Name Is Rachel Corrie.
Cindy & Craig in.
20 mins late going up – power surge equals blackout.
Megan taps into something very pure – not unconnected to
seeing the Corries sitting in the circle together. Beautiful work.
Today the Observer talks of a triumphant run – not quite
David’s8 words in the hospitality room . . .

21 May
4 Last show in London. Packed house. Megan started too fast,
got into her stride and then the lid came down towards the
end. Backstage I discover that the woman yelling at the curtain
call had barracked throughout the second half and Megan,
understandably, was freaked. A last day marker for New York?

30 May
Campagnatico.
Today was my chopping back the garden day. Releasing the
fig tree from the confines of the kiwi fruit and on the way,
helping the honeysuckle to have a presence and reminding the
wisteria who is boss . . .

7 June
Campagnatico.
A letter has been sent March 22 from Robert Lepage to
ICM saying that the French distributors wanted a bigger name
in Dragons’ Trilogy. It’s that moment. I was thinking of Tom
Cruise and there he was on Leno looking so uncomfortable.
You’re up, down, in, out – whose whim?

8 June
Campagnatico.
DIY mode and I sanded and first-coated (a ‘protective’
substance . . .?) the table and benches outside.
 Second coat and it has altered the look possibly for the
better.

13 June
To Marylebone High Street to deal with the rash of
birthday/wedding presents.

9 July
12 Richard Wilson’s birthday party . . . Ian McKellen spoke
bravely and well, ticking every Wilson box, then Jennie Stoller9
and I gave Richard his book of tributes.
7 The Wolseley w. Zoë [Wanamaker] & Gawn10 and then
mid chat/story/slander/hilarity in came Penny Wilton closely
followed by Antonia F. and Harold Pinter . . . Will the subject
come up? It does and from Harold (who is looking clear-
skinned and is unalterably clear-minded not to mention
courteous and generous). Do you know my poem ‘Democracy’
he asks after kind words about My Name Is Rachel Corrie? He
then recites it for us . . .
Richard and Harold; 2 flag-bearers in one day.

24 July
To New York.
2.35 BA → Newark.
On the plane finally reading excellent article by Tony Judt –
‘The Country That Wouldn’t Grow Up’ – talks of Israel
‘comporting itself like an adolescent’, ‘that it can do as it
wishes, that its actions carry no consequences and that it is
immortal’. And this was written way before the horrors of
Lebanon.

3 August
→ Edinburgh.
3am Jet lag – reading Tom Courtenay’s book Dear Tom sends
me hurtling back to the kitchen, sculleries, front and back
rooms of my youth – does that explain my pleasure & faint
unease at my surroundings now?
11 Train from Kings Cross.
5.55 My Name Is Rachel Corrie. First preview. Josie11 ticks the
boxes with great clarity and efficiency.
8 Shore Bar, Leith, w. everybody. Perfect choice.
Later to the Prestonfield bar. Hoots of pleasure all round.

6 August
David Johnson called to say we have a great review in the
Scotsman. This obviously helps him.

9 August
6.30 Rima off to Italy.

11 August
Feeling less and less desire to go to Italy this time. Airport
chaos aside it feels like more stress, running a hotel and no rest.
Added to which they are not starting on the garden . . .

12 August
Whittington Hospital [London].
5 Max [Stafford-Clark]’s mind as sharp as ever, recall total,
eyeline unknowable, left side paralysed. But we all chatted away
as if nothing had happened. Which I hope was the point. Max
asked pointed questions about Corin Redgrave & talked of
Alan Ayckbourn’s stroke, but we moved swiftly on.

15 August
11 Train to Edinburgh.
Some trick of fate led me to read (and just finish) Tom
Courtenay’s book. Parallels all over the place, though he and I
so different. And so similar. Stuffed with mirror images of
leaving one career for RADA, telling Mum not to talk to the
press, the constant hubbub of relatives, Nan, Granddad, aunts,
uncles, Mum in hospital. Guilt. And all as I train to Edinburgh
for a screening of Snow Cake and tomorrow’s My Name Is
Rachel Corrie. But it’s work I’m proud of. And I’m shaped by
my family.
7 Snow Cake screening. J.K. Rowling, Neil [Murray, her
husband], Andrew [Ward], Alison [Campbell].
Dinner nearby – Hamilton’s.
Q&A, then the Loft (w. Brian De Palma), then the Sheraton
Bar. Steve Coogan there all the while being very brilliant and
likeable. But the red wine sends me to a place full of sentences
and no verbs. How did I make it back to my room?

16 August
Edinburgh.
1pm Oyster bar [Cafe Royal]. How have I missed this place
all these years? A haven. Roy Hattersley comes in and we point
& wave. ‘Are you still on board or despairing?’ ‘Worse,’ I say.
‘It’s going to be alright,’ he says. Very Brownite, I think.

7 September
Munich – Perfume premiere.
Press . . . ‘What is Perfume to you?’ ‘What is your favourite
perfume/smell?’ ‘What perfume do you buy for a woman?’
etc., etc., etc., etc.

9 September
5.30 Wake up.
6am Cab → hospital.
Echoes of January.
Somewhere in here, pathetic behaviour from the Labour
Party – totally out of touch with the real world,
institutionalised, cannabalistic, egomaniacal, bitter, twisted and
stupid. Charles Clarke12 – never trust a man with two-day
growth, who also stuffs his face that much. Blair, of course,
nips off to Israel for a swift bit of statesmanship.

13 September
9pm Rima back from Italy.

19 September
3pm The Queen. Whiteley’s.
Enjoyable voyeurism and Helen [Mirren] really wonderful,
but its research is of a tabloid level and not rigorous when it
needed to be. Meeting the royal family en masse at St James’s
Palace was meeting a group of people who actually do have fun
together. And isn’t it a known fact that H.M. and Philip sleep
in separate bedrooms? I suspect that the Queen Mother had
more influence even at 90-odd. All in all, involving to watch
but it fades swiftly – a shame since there are some zonking
issues at the centre of it.

29 September
I am currently at odds with everything, it seems – RADA, the
Pinter play, Snow Cake, Perfume screening, potential personality
clashes on MNIRC etc., etc. EVERYTHING is or becomes a
problem. Why on earth is this? It’s even felt at one remove – re
Sigourney being treated appallingly by Harvey W[einstein]. So
now I want to punish him. Like he’d feel it . . .
11.15 Car → Heathrow. MOVING ON.

4 October
NEW YORK.
8 Dress rehearsal.13
With some producers, some marketing, some press. Megan
way behind her eyes and soul – tiredness. Which defeats her
and makes her negative and vulnerable.
5 October
8 First preview.
And she’s back on form. The audience, however, are
worryingly geriatric. A standing ovation would be an
impossibility – it would take too long to happen.

12 October
Somewhat caught unawares – Rima phones and says ‘I’m on
the way from the airport.’

15 October
7 The opening night.
As good as anyone can expect under NY pressure. Suits and
ties and money and influence everywhere. People hanging
around in the auditorium talking to the Corries afterwards for a
long time.
Later. Balthazar. Where Diane Borger has the first intimation
of a ‘mixed’ (awful word) review in the NY Times. Here we go
again.14

16 October
. . . the power of a fucking newspaper hangs over the entire day
– the pressure of it visible on Megan’s face.

28 October
3pm Bree15 – first performance.
She takes 6 minutes off the running time so I’m miming
reins from my seat on the stairs, but the audience stands at the
end and her youth & spirit are incredibly affecting.
Rima → Kennedy → London.

3 November
11.05 Borat. Utterly brilliant comedy – the whole movie and
the performance which is kissed with genius from start to
finish.

28 November
New York → Toronto.
6.30 pick-up → Snow Cake premiere – in the multiplex.
Roots – for the reception. A 58-year-old autistic woman
tells me she’s trying to keep her mouth shut. ‘I can be too
bold.’

3 December
6am Jet lag and reading Antonia Quirke’s book Madame
Depardieu and the Beautiful Strangers. It’s a joyously uninhibited
300 pages. At times it smacks of being written by a wet and
muddy 5th former who has flung her hockey stick across a
room, grabbed her maribou-trimmed diary and dived on to the
bed to write, write, write.

5 December
Premiere of Perfume.
The film looked beautiful and 300 people sat mesmerised.

6 December
11.30 Car to Pinewood.16
Plaster cast of head, weird, buried alive experience – can’t
cough, see, speak. People slapping on plaster strips which then
start to get alarmingly hot. Then singing. I think Paul likes the
way I fight back against amazingly rude pianist . . . Start to get
a picture of a faded (very) roué. A bit Les Patterson.

11 December
London Clinic. Blood test time.
On the way out, there’s Andrew Marr on his mobile phone,
in a state about where he’s supposed to be and seemingly
unconcerned about the fact that he’s on crutches with his right
leg in a cast. I wait until he hangs up and say ‘I’m sure you’re
tired of answering this – but what happened?’ ‘Oh, torn
tendon, do you know where Cavendish Street is?’ I didn’t and
wished him well, of course outside, turn left, walk 100 yds –
Cavendish Street. I looked around and he was hurtling towards
it.

13 December
Royal Court 50th Birthday.
Rima later said the whole party had a melancholy air to it –
she could be right, plus the Court’s self-examining doesn’t
really approve of letting go. We retreated to The Wolseley.

15 December
9.45 Pinewood. For a very bad-tempered (me) rehearsal. Too
early – no voice – no high notes and the bland insistence that it
will be OK . . .

17 December
9.35 → New York.
3pm My Name Is Rachel Corrie. Bree’s last performance. She
now owns the stage, and her space. Still too keen to get to the
next sentence before she’s fully lived in this one, but she does
some miraculously fresh things. She went to Gaza of all of them.
7pm Kerry’s17 last performance. Wonderful talent that she is,
she is still young enough to push a little too hard – ‘I’m going
to give all of it my all’ was the sense one had. But she’s rivetting
and not a syllable is wasted or unexplored.

25 December
MILLBROOK, Upstate New York.
Tash and Liam are, of course, legendary hosts . . . On
opening the bedroom door to make an early morning cup of
tea – two large stockings waiting for us.
27 December
MILLBROOK.
NY Times dumps on Perfume. Daily News likes it. No wonder
Dreamworks has been like a coy door person.
6 Tash & Liam’s party. Indian food and charades with Meryl
Streep, Bette Midler (scoring . . .), Mia Farrow, Stanley Tucci
and his wife Katie, Aidan Quinn & Elizabeth [Bracco, his
wife], Allan Corduner. Meryl got Volver18 – mimed vulva. Ms
Farrow talked long and expertly about Darfur.
Reading a really excellent How To book in the Neeson loo
– How To Be Happy, Dammit. Full of good New Year stuff
about fears and patterns. The endless ongoing, really. The fear
of success creating the circumstances of failure. That has to stop.
Get that book.
1
Throughout 2005 A.R. had been receiving treatment for an aggressive form of
prostate cancer. It was decided that the best option was to remove the entire prostate,
to which end he and Rima travelled to the Vanderbilt University Medical Center in
Nashville, Tennessee, where he was operated on by Dr Joseph ‘Jay’ Smith, one of the
leading surgeons in the field.
2
An old, Edinburgh-based friend of A.R.’s from his art school days, married to
Alison Campbell
3
New York Theatre Workshop
4
Then owner of the Ceilidh Place
5
James C. Nicola, artistic director
6
American literary critic (1947–) specialising in women’s studies
7
On Kensington and Chelsea Borough Council, in local elections
8
David Johnson (1960–2020), producer on My Name Is Rachel Corrie
9
British actor (1946–)
10
British actor Gawn Grainger (1937–), Z.W.’s husband
11
English actor Josie Taylor (1983–), playing Rachel Corrie
12
Labour politician (1950–) who had recently been sacked from government
13
My Name Is Rachel Corrie was performed at the Minetta Lane Theatre, produced
by David Johnson.
14
The New York Times concluded: ‘No matter what side you come down on
politically, Ms Corrie’s sense of a world gone so awry that it forces her to question
her “fundamental belief in the goodness of human nature” is sure to strike sadly
familiar chords.’
15
American actor Bree Elrod, playing Rachel Corrie
16
Preparations for filming Sweeney Todd
17
Kerry Bishé, Rachel Corrie understudy
18
2006 Spanish film directed by Pedro Almodóvar
 2007
RICHARD WILSON – SWEENEY TODD – RIMA’S
60TH BIRTHDAY – HAROLD PINTER – GORDON
BROWN – RUFUS WAINWRIGHT – TIMOTHY SPALL
– RICHARD ATTENBOROUGH – JOHNNY DEPP –
RUBY WAX – TONY BLAIR STANDS DOWN –
CAMPAGNATICO – TBILISI – PUBLICATION OF LAST
HARRY POTTER – SONOMA, BOTTLE SHOCK –
LEONARD COHEN – DANIEL RADCLIFFE – NEW
YORK – BARBARA AND KEN FOLLETT – CAPE
TOWN

1 January
Home somewhere around 3.30am from Richard’s party in the
Royal Suite at Claridge’s . . . One of those idling New Year’s
Days walking through the park to the funfair . . . On to
Selfridges (ice-cream maker, living for pleasure now) and a cab
home in the rain – the funfair bravely ablaze with lights but
deserted now. Quick – write a script, get funding, start filming.

3 January
9.30[pm] Tricycle Cinema. Q&A after Perfume screening which
seemed to go fine. They had liked the film, the place was full
and the questions were mainly interesting and interested.

4 January
3.30 Claridge’s. Rima’s birthday party first meeting. Grabbed
Feb 3rd and started the organisation process.

5 January
10 Mark Meylan.
Singing lesson. Absence of alcohol for the last 5 days means
absence of dehydration which means much more flexible
voice . . . QED.
8 January
11.40 pick-up → Pinewood. A ‘refresher’ was the message.
Eventually walk into the studio where there is a full choir.
Christopher Lee, Peter Bowles, Anthony Head, Michael
Harbour,1 Liza Sadovy and (thank God) Tim Spall. Not to
mention Stephen Sondheim . . .
And – SING!

9 January
11.30 Mark Meylan singing lesson.
12.30 → Pinewood.
And basically, sing ‘Pretty Women’ for Sondheim. Thanks to
Mark, high notes were scaled and breathing occasionally
seemed like a good idea. Sondheim talks of the judge [Judge
Turpin, A.R.’s character] as a much more dapper figure than I
see – I can only sense the crumbs, dandruff, dirt under the
nails. Obsessive.

17 January
A swift hour was spent making a table/seating plan [for Rima’s
birthday party]. It is, of course, not that difficult and one would
take the free-for-all approach, but there are 1 or 2 potential
collisions, so best avoided, eh??

21 January
10.45 Car to Sudbury Hill to visit Uncle Vic. I haven’t seen
him for – probably – a year now and he seems to have aged a
lot more than that. At one point he asks me, ‘Do you know my
wife?’ ‘Very well, Uncle Vic.’ ‘I miss her dreadfully.’

26 January
SWEENEY TODD RECORDING.
11.30 First recording of ‘Pretty Women’. New version –
beautifully sung by Johnny Depp. Tim Burton is there. As is –
thank goodness – Mark. Plus Mike and other recordist. They
all seemed very happy. I felt a kind of euphoric relief in
amongst the usual barrage of self-criticism.

31 January
Rima’s birthday.
am Dressing gowns, coffee, opening presents.

3 February
RIMA’S BIRTHDAY PARTY – CLARIDGE’S.
3pm Claridge’s. To check in and start helping Alex & Lesley
as they made the room look like spring had sprung. Really
beautiful.
6.45 Down to the French Salon. What amounted to an army
of friends started arriving, beaming.
8pm Dinner. The food was terrific, the quiz hilarious –
people chatting via text/Blackberry/telephone throughout.
Smiling faces everywhere. And then they danced. And then
Tara, Lesley & Hilton sang. It was a kind of perfection. Even
with the panic button of 2 extra for dinner.
Eventually, as tables were being cleared, 40-odd people were
persuaded into the lobby for drinks and more talk. Until 4am.
No one wants to go home.

4 February
10.30 Breakfast in Claridge’s Restaurant.

5 February
PEN TRIBUTE TO HAROLD PINTER.
5.30 → Windsor, and the car ride from there. Into the
blackness, with no street lights & no road signs in Windsor
Great Park . . .
7.30 Finally arrive, 20 mins late, at Cumberland Lodge. I’m
furious, Lindsay remains gloriously polite. She’s right because
the readings begin 10 mins later and I’m still boiling. However
the material wins because it’s so brilliant and we have a happy
dinner. Harold generous and warm and smiling & thrilled that
he’s doing Homecoming on the radio. Harold makes a typically
taut and pointed speech about Iraq.
6.30 Rules Restaurant.
Kathy Lette and Geoffrey Robinson’s dinner for Sarah and
Gordon Brown . . . Gordon seemed very relaxed and
immediately asked about Rachel Corrie/Kath Viner. It was
Sarah who carried the tension. But then Sunday night out is
probably no one’s favourite option.

14 February
Stayed in and watched the Brits. Liam Gallagher is a great rock
singer but an absolute tosser as a person. Who cares about his
little tantrums – come out from behind the hair & glasses and
showy walk and witless rudeness.

19 February
Vague sense of watching bits of my life being put on a record
player like some album that’s as irritating as it is loved. Or it’s
the mouse in a wheel thing of who is controlling what, here?
Not helped by feeling a bit used in the work area and a bigger
bit irrelevant in the world . . . This in spite of loving generous
phone calls about Snow Cake – something I’m proud of and
which does have a point. This is one of the more painful
paradoxes.

20 February
10.45 → Pinewood.
To practise falling backwards from the barber’s chair.

23 February
6.45 pick-up. Sweeney Todd.
 First day for Judge Turpin. Tim has a joyous soul, though –
clear about what he wants, very concentrated but like a child,
an indoor firework. And surrounded by the likes of Tim Spall
(looking in the mirror as his ‘young’ wig goes on he says ‘Who
is it? Is it early Twiggy?’).

25 February
7.30 Rufus Wainwright. Palladium.
This was an amazing feat. 2¾ hours of up and at ’em singing
with some shocking brilliance from Martha Wainwright sort of
tossed in. Kate McGarrigle skipped and sidled on and off as
well. Rufus pays homage and lightens the load on himself with
flicks of irony. Somehow it was never a camp-fest. Like
watching a conjuror.

15 March
Pinewood.
6.15 pick-up.
Old Bailey Scenes.
Which have the all-day pleasure of being with Tim Spall.
Apart from his rich & deep talent and his total lack of vanity,
you feel his real love of his family and his boat, and he’s
endlessly funny. Even when talking about signs seen in
windows he remembers ‘BASKET CASES HERE’ at Karachi
airport.

21 March
A pointless Guardian article about English accents in
Hollywood quotes me as using the phrase ‘dear boy’. This
would never get past my lips. Sledgehammer journalism.

26 March
8pm Supper w. Ruby & Ed.
Ruby’s off to the Palace tomorrow as a Distinguished
American. She thinks she’s parking in the Palace forecourt.
We’ll see.

27 March
She did.
12.30 Dorchester Hotel.
Lunch for Dickie Attenborough . . . I’m sitting next to him
(someone’s mistake? or because I’m RADA vice chair?). At one
point, after a speech of staggering insensitivity and irrelevance,
he whispered ‘Who was that man?’ I said ‘Frank Carson’.2 He
made a note and blithely included his name in his speech.

28 March
On the set to rehearse ‘Pretty Women’.
Good talk to Johnny Depp about his daughter.3 I gave him a
hug and said ‘You’ve been to hell and back.’ He talked a bit and
we made an even playing field in a way. Out of something real.
It was a good starting point as always.

29 March
Happy, concentrated atmosphere. Johnny wears his fame very
lightly and has done his homework and is open to ideas. And
has plenty of his own. It’s all a gradual process of becoming
comfortable with the obstacles although one of them is a real
threat – my skin starts screaming at the shaving foam after it has
been applied, washed off and reapplied 6 or 7 times. By the
end of the day the makeup is concealing red blotches and a lot
of stinging.

30 March
It has been a pleasure to do the scene with Johnny D. He has
real concentration and a great sense of humour. Unbeatable
combination. And there seemed to be a real buzz on set all day.
Bravo, Mr Sondheim. The song never lost its complexity nor
its simplicity – either musically or via its lyrics. That must be
some kind of genius.
16 April
4am Rima gets up and tries to exit quietly.
pm Stories of progress at Campagnatico – a huge structure,
some concrete and the fig tree has gone.

27 April
Champaign → Chicago → New York.
On the plane the New York Times review of Snow Cake.
Would have you believe there isn’t a laugh in it. Does the act of
criticism automatically generate joylessness, a complete inability
to let go?

1 May
LONDON.
7pm Umu, Bruton Place.
Ruby’s birthday party.
Those three words . . . a ton of generosity but she’d done a
deal says the PR woman who totally blanks Horatia [Lawson,
journalist] until I mention she’s Nigella’s sister, then she’s in
danger of whiplash. Up the other end – A.A. Gill is seated near
Jennifer Saunders (who he has slagged off in print).
Unsurprisingly, she won’t talk to him. It’s Ruby’s very own A-
D list but since no one’s introduced to anyone it’s guesswork as
to status. Bizarre placements create hot and cold patches as
possible clues.

3 May
7am pick-up.
Johnny’s had a late night, everything a bit behind. Made it
on set late morning . . . The crew sits behind black plastic
wearing paper suits as Johnny and I are sprayed and drenched in
bright orange/red liquid. It somehow gets inside the trouser
seat as well as down arms, inside shirts and all over Johnny’s
face. More of the same tomorrow.
9 May
6am pick-up.
Last scene. Lying in the gutter, spitting blood, grabbing on
to Mrs Lovett’s4 skin as she shrieks ‘Die, die, you bastard (or
something like that), die.’
Satisfying and a little less wet around the underpants than in
the barber’s chair.

10 May
Tony Blair’s standing-down speech – he could have saved
himself a great deal of time by just reprinting the lyrics to ‘My
Way’.

18 May
Home alone. Which means drag a ladder out into the garden,
bang a nail into a wall, watch it bounce off into the shrubbery
(twice), give up, put ladder away.
pm Talking to Adam about Transylvania Tales contract only
throws up the wholesale Warner Bros rip-off of actors with
HP. Why create such disinterest for the sake of penny-pinching
greed? But then, why waste time asking why?

27 May
David & Chris → Uncle Vic at the nursing home. Sheila &
John already there. How to make this un-dutiful? Or where we
sit in a circle and talk to each other while Uncle Vic watches
the TV with the sound turned down. When I asked how he
was doing, he said, ‘I’ve been a little browned off, lately.’

4 June
Campagnatico.
a.m. and the workmen are in the garden. Eventually we hear
the cement mixer rolling.

5 June
Campagnatico.
Cosimo arrives from Milan and is his usual heroic self –
explaining everything, talking to the builders, attempting to
sort out the computer, the telephone system, the damp kitchen
walls and with the greatest humility showing us his boundless
integrity and taste in the whole garden project, which given
the anti-earthquake requirements of whichever state
committee, has not been problem-free.

11 June
Campagnatico → Rome → London.
am This is now like running a small hotel, which I have
always thought I would enjoy. The clean up and turn around –
very basic stuff but therapeutic.
9.20 On the plane. Re-reading some of this diary. A lot of
people, a lot of places. Eating, drinking. Not too much
thinking, shaping, doing . . .

14 June
Tbilisi.
2.10 Book Fair. Major HP Fest. Children clutching copies
and flashing cameras.
7 QBP (Queen’s Birthday Party) at the Marriott Hotel.
Donald5 plays his bagpipes and makes a speech in English and
Georgian. Later to a restaurant overlooking the river, with
Georgian dancing and Donald reappearing with bagpipes. He’s
a bit of a star, really.

1 July
DIET MONTH STARTS TODAY.

4 July
8.30 River Cafe . . . Around and about are Tessa Jowell, Simon
Schama, Alan Rusbridger, and Ruthie is on duty. Network
Central. ‘Are there any more Harry Potters?’ says the Editor of
the Guardian. ‘The last book comes out end of July – it’ll be on
your front page. World event,’ I offer.

6 July
Jo Rowling on Jonathan Ross – says 2 more people die in HP
7.

8 July
12.30 Lunch in the Members’ Restaurant. Annabel Croft’s
shared table. Poached salmon and strawberries. All very
Wimbledon. Not a black, Asian or working-class face in sight.
I fantasise a hundred conversations about garden centres,
awnings, golf, children’s schooling, insurance, the A40.
The Men’s Final. I prefer Nadal’s openness to Federer’s, well,
closedness but it was yin and yang to a kind of perfection.

20 July
THE DAY OF THE LAST HARRY POTTER.
11.15pm → Tunbridge Wells and Waterstone’s.
I had guessed at 20 or 30 people waiting for midnight.
Probably 300-400. And a queue moving slowly. 1 hour in the
queue and it was time for action. Went to friendly security
man. ‘Have you read the books?’ No. ‘Have you seen the
films?’ One of them. ‘I’m in them.’ Oh yes! There will be
mayhem if I go into the queue. ‘I’ll get the manager.’ (Manager
arrives.) ‘Oh! Hello!’

27 July
. . . I have finished reading the last Harry Potter book. Snape
dies heroically, Potter describes him to his children as one of
the bravest men he ever knew and calls his son Albus Severus.
This was a genuine rite of passage. One small piece of
information from Jo Rowling 7 years ago – Snape loved Lily –
gave me a cliff edge to hang on to.

1 August
Watching, finally, on an impulse, HP 4 . . . Beautifully shot by
Roger Pratt and full of Mike [Newell]’s humanity. Rima points
out that it’s the most complex of the books and the hardest to
film. So all credit.

5 August
[Re filming of Bottle Shock]
→ To Chicago → San Francisco → Sonoma.

10 August
9.45 pick-up → Montelena Vineyard, Napa Valley.
pm Silent wine tasting scene with Jim Barrett himself [owner
of Montelena]. Total charmer who talks fondly of Steven
Spurrier.6 I reaf-firm my intention only to honour S.S. – no
stammer and sense of humour intact.
Later pm – the unlikely story of S.S. eating KFC.

11 August
SONOMA.
Another day at Chateau Montelena. Driving a car which
seems to have a passing acquaintance with brakes and then
negotiating scenes with Bill [Pullman]. Tricky at times because
as he rightly points out my lines have been sculpted and there’s
a danger of leaving him stranded. But then, as I point out, I am
working in 2 dimensions to his 3. But he’s a thinking actor and
we bash out some kind of compromise.

13 August
SONOMA.
Day off.
4pm Massage at the spa. Good masseur . . . but too much
chat. And he hung around afterwards presumably for the tip I
wasn’t carrying in the bathrobe.
15 August
SONOMA.
6.30 Day One – Tasting.
Beautiful but ridiculous location – a 19th century roofless
ruin. An old barrel store? Would be an idiotic choice – tasting
world class wines in 90°.
Something of this illogic breeds testiness and a lot of
thinking on the feet has to go on plot-wise. Life made
generally easier by the presence of the 6 or 7 French actors
playing judges. They all live in LA, and see each other all the
time at auditions and are wonderfully free in improvisations and
generous.

17 August
SONOMA.
The trouble with vague narrative inefficiency is that my
brain goes into overdrive and I lose my sense of humour. Good
for getting through the day, terrible for crew morale and very
undermining for Randy [Miller, director], I suspect. It’s when
the shot rules the story that this happens, but without story the
shot has no drive or depth.

18 August
7ish Rima arrives.

19 August
SONOMA.
10am. A drive into Sonoma town square. An omelette in a
side street restaurant right next to Footcandy which had Jimmy
Choo and Manolo on sale. Exited with a small bag full of same.

20 August
9ish Called in for ‘I’m an arsehole’ scene . . . Still finding it
difficult to be Mr Chirpy on set . . .
28 August
Out to Glen Ellen for my last two scenes. Eliza Sexy Dushku
playing the barmaid Joe. (Later in the make up trailer I read lead
kindly light . . . tattooed on her hip. ‘I got it done in Albania,’
she says. ‘Thank God they spelt it right’ from me.

8 September
→ London. Home somewhere around 4pm. 2 hours of wading
through envelopes, making piles, writing cheques.
A pizza. Some wonderful Georgian wine. Some terrible TV.
Bed.
Sleep. Wake. Sleep. Wake.

11 September
CAMPAGNATICO.
Cosimo and Michael were here this morning so we talked of
sinks and walls and railings and tables and plants and screening.
One day all this will be here. I kept talking about ‘an old
person needing a hand rail’. Michael said, eventually, ‘Who is
this old person who’s coming?’ ‘Me,’ I said, ‘by the time this
garden is finished.’ It will be good to have plants so that it
doesn’t look like Hollywood has come to Campagnatico.

13 September
CAMPAGNATICO.
. . . to Kathy Van Praag’s house which is everything an
Italian house should be. Plus the headaches of running and
sustaining it.
Whilst there I’m left with the NY Herald Tribune while Kathy
& Rima go upstairs. A cold shock to read the words Anita
Roddick in bold black ink. My eyes moved sideways and saw
OBITUARIES. A brain haemorrhage at 64. The world is
absolutely poorer.
30 September
8.30 Denis Lawson’s birthday party.
Mr Peter Pan. Surrounded by a few Tinkerbells, many Mrs
Darlings and a few Captain Hooks. Very happy go lucky party.
And Sheila’s picture keeps her present at what she would have
loved.

20 October
6 Leonard Cohen & Charles Glass7 in conversation and Q&A.
Q: Mr Cohen, would you ever change the title to something
else, like Fulfilment?
LC: What’s fulfilment got to offer?

25 October
12.30 RADA Business Lunch. Dorchester Hotel.
The annual gathering of insurance brokers, RADA choir,
Dickie A., assorted alumni – rather good food, Nicholas
Parsons, True or False game, raffle, auction.
Dickie asking questions about Pygmalion, we talk about the
vulgarising effect of ITV – flash ads for other programmes
while the film is on, credits reduced to illegibility etc., etc. –
who knows when this will end. Meanwhile good time had by
all.

30 October
9am Royal Court Council/Board.
I have been talked into this. Cannot shake off the feeling of
‘What am I doing here?’ At RADA there has been something
to fight for – here, all is rosy, really, and I lose my
independence. Heigh ho. We’ll see. Give it a year.

9 November
12 Singing lesson.
 ‘Uptown, Downtown’ and ‘You’ve Got A Friend’ meet with
Mark M.’s approval. The masochist before me turned out to be
Daniel Rad-cliffe with, as he said, ‘My first 3 day off period in
seven years.’

25 November
SWEENEY TODD DAYS.
1.15 Screening of Sweeney Todd.
Tim has made a brilliant film. Johnny drives the car and
Helena slouches in the passenger seat. A wonderful pairing and
Tim doesn’t flinch. Ever. Bravo to him for such guts.

26 November
After a bit of negotiation we manage not to do the interviews
in a bedroom . . . And the parade begins. Slightly glazed
expressions from most of the journalists. ‘Tell me about the
razors,’ says one woman who should be for the chop herself.

6 December
New York.
1.30pm Liam–Tash lunch. 55th for which – thank you,
gridlock and red lights – we are 15 minutes late. Food
wonderful, bill laughable but what the heck, I love these two
and it’s a relatively small price to chat this freely. In New York.
But with Tash there is always a witching hour. Suddenly she’s
had enough of this moment in her life – a glance at a watch
and she’s off.

10 December
→ London.
9.30am Heathrow.
Home. Sort through the mail. Order a Christmas tree. Go
out and buy some supper. Eventually, cook it. Take delivery of
Christmas tree. Put lights on. Lights go off 3 mins later. Why?
Decorate tree. Bed.
16 December
10.15 The Wolseley w. Jane B., Salman Rushdie, Martin Amis,
Ian McEwan and ‘an American’. As we went to our table
Salman got up to say hello. I said there should be a collective
noun for their table. Instantly, he suggested ‘a remainder’.

17 December
7 Ruby in vulnerable mode. Even with all her intelligence,
awareness, wit, she still sometimes snatches at life. There’s
always something, someone better, more amusing, more useful,
more status affirming around the corner or met last night or
phoning back. Sit still with old friends occasionally.

20 December
Today I finished reading Edna O’B.’s manuscript [re Byron]. It’s
like the craziest fiction. Like someone made a mistake and
shuffled 2 or 3 lines together. Tonight she leaves a message
saying her publisher doesn’t want it. The casual cruelty of it is,
of course, Byronesque.

24 December
To visit Uncle Vic/take him his Christmas present/assuage-
identify some guilt. He was in bed. Fully clothed. I nipped out
to find some staff and get him some tea. Apparently he refused
to leave the dining room, then refused to sit in his chair.
Probing gently, he said it was ‘a protest’ – but he couldn’t
remember why. I left him drinking tea through a straw,
scanning the TV magazine. That is to say, I escape.
11.30 St James’s Christmas Mass. The sermon evoked Stalin
as a reason for the need for God. Mostly I was looking at the
congregation and wondering why we don’t have a local
Waitrose.

30 December
4 Claridge’s. Barbara Follett’s birthday party.
 Sandwiches with no crusts. Tea. Champagne. And Barbara at
the microphone. ‘In a minute we will sing Happy Birthday and
then everyone will dance. I hope.’ Ken gave her a (red, of
course) Jaguar – parked outside Claridge’s. And then they
danced together. Like a couple of kids, which is part of their
endless and disarming charm.
6 Car → Heathrow.
8.30 → Cape Town.
1
Scottish actor (1945–2009)
2
Northern Irish comedian (1926–2012)
3
She had anorexia nervosa.
4
Played by Helena Bonham Carter
5
Donald MacLaren, then British ambassador to Georgia
6
British wine expert and merchant (1941–2021), the inspiration for Bottle Shock
7
American journalist (1951–). They were discussing L.C.’s book Book of Longing.
 2008
SOUTH AFRICA – SWEENEY TODD PREMIERE –
SALT LAKE CITY – BOTTLE SHOCK – SUNDANCE
FILM FESTIVAL (NOBEL SON) – DORIS LESSING –
HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF BLOOD PRINCE –
BAFTA – ANTHONY MINGHELLA – RUSSELL BRAND
– TIM BURTON AND HELENA BONHAM CARTER –
CAMPAGNATICO – HUMPHREY LYTTELTON –
CAMPAGNATICO – SAN FRANCISCO – BOTTLE
SHOCK PREMIERE – ANNE HEARST AND JAY
McINERNEY – CREDITORS – NEW YORK – LOS
ANGELES – DECLINES CBE – NOBEL SON PREMIERE
– NEW YORK – HAROLD PINTER – DANIEL
RADCLIFFE

1 January
Cape Town – Camps Bay.
5.30 – awake. The beach is still gently buzzing. Looking out
of the window, pockets of people who’ve been there all night,
some wet, some dry. Back to bed and, thankfully, sleep. Sort of.
The buzzing has gradually grown until at 11am, looking out
again the grass verge is packed with families – all in from the
townships – for this mass day-off party.

3 January
Pringle Bay.
6am. Exactly. Which means over six hours of complete
sleeplessness. The flight? The wind? (Which was brutal.) The
food? He swore the coffee was decaf. New Year-itis? The fact
that I missed the New Year Moment should not become an
emblem or a theme. Rather a sign that life should be specific,
not lost in generalised ritual. It’s a thought, anyway, in amongst
the night’s million, repetitive others.
 12.30 Ruby, Ed & Max arrive – Ruby all aglow having
discovered that Pringle Bay is another Nirvana.

9 January
Pringle Bay → London.
6.30 Car → Cape Town. Early because roads had been
closed.
10.45 Virgin → London. Hello pill. Hello sleep.

10 January
London – Sweeney Todd Premiere.
8.10 on the plane. Something in me – the ADHD perhaps –
wants to buy another journal and write the last ten days with a
pen that’s actually usable. But maybe that would be to heaten
up a New Year’s first week that started with me in the toilet as
it came in and ended yesterday with a major mountain fire.
6pm Car → Leicester Square.
Which seems to be completely filled with cameras,
microphones and hands thrusting programmes, books, pieces of
paper. ‘If you were a pie which flavour would you be?’ Inside
find Johnny & Tim – already said hello to Helena & Jim in the
Square. 7.30 on stage. Then escape to Sheekey’s for dinner.
9.15 Royal Courts of Justice for the party which was ace.

14 January
Louise Bourgeois Day.
Tate Modern.
Before it finishes at the end of the week and it’s everything
they say. She wouldn’t care, of course, about ‘them’. Still
working at 94 or whatever and not giving a toss about the
Venice Biennale. So completely creative. The rooms combine
and counterpoint. Aggressive and vulgar at the same time.
Completely organic and a spirit ‘caught’, but very vigorous,
too. Inspirational.

15 January
Michael Grandage [director/producer] calls and asks if I’d like
to direct Creditors – Strindberg – at the Donmar. I wouldn’t
normally be ‘on the radar’ of possible directors so it’s down to
Ian McDiarmid’s1 suggestion. Again. But that’s how the system
works. It’s all about perception.

16 January
6.30 Warner House, RADA Screening of Sweeney Todd. Very
rich people do not react to stories/theatre/film like normal
people. Fact. They laugh less. Give themselves less. They’re
hanging on to what they’ve got.

18 January
Chicago.
→ Salt Lake City.
To the 8.30 screening of Bottle Shock. Which, with all the
horrors of seeing a film for the first time, has a growing and
undeniably great heart. There are definitely times when a film
like this is needed and the audience seemed to agree.

19 January
Sundance [re Nobel Son].
An interview with Ben Lyons [reporter] . . . I would guess
he does 92% of the talking.

20 January
Sundance.
11ish and out into lounge-land. Photos and gifts after a radio
interview at the house. Photos and quick chats and a watch I
don’t want goes to Rachael2 (later I discovered it’s worth
$10,000).
 2.30 Phoebe in Wonderland.
Elle Fanning is some kind of acting animal. Where/how
does she know how to do that? The rest of it would be vastly
better if someone had asked a few questions. How come the
headmaster hadn’t noticed rehearsals . . . for a full-scale musical
in the school hall?

21 January
Sundance.
10 To the Delta Bar (civilised) and the $10,000 watch
apology session.

22 January
Park City, Sundance.
Heath Ledger is dead. I met him in NY . . . Quiet,
contained and so talented. The whole day is hammered into
focus. Movies, movie stars, festivals, interviews, PR people,
lawyers, award ceremonies. Whatever.

23 January
Home somewhere around 1pm. And this may well be the
blank page of introspection. If you add that to jet lag and the
blues it accounts for a day (afternoon evening) of unpacking,
opening letters, throwing away bits of paper, sitting fairly still
and now hoping for sleep with the ticking clock next to me.

24 January
There is a deep introspection during these days. A feeling of
being marginalised by shallow minds. The shallow minds,
however, belong to opinion-formers.

28 January
To John Lewis – now more than ever a temple to what?
Common sense; it is what it is; unspiced, unperfumed and I
don’t think you’d find bright red anywhere in the building –
but everything validates the sensible approach to what adorns
(wrong word) complements your life. We were there for frying
pans.

30 January
6.30 Wallace Collection. PEN tribute to Doris Lessing.
I like her presence – Doris Lessing. Stylish in curvy grey hair
and a red velvet dress. Smiling but without wasting a muscle.
Juliet Stevenson late but it all worked out OK although I’m not
sure this is material to be read out loud.

4 February
HP 6.
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.
Day One.
Thank God I could do the coat up without visible strain at
the seams.

7 February
8.15 pick-up.
Car park. Paparazzi. Freezing cloister of Gloucester
Cathedral.
A whole new working relationship, this time with Tom
Felton [playing Draco Malfoy]. The story of this so-far-6-part
epic is one minute there were all these little kids . . . now?
Found Maggie in her trailer vulnerable and fuck it – all at once.

10 February
9 Watching the BAFTA awards. The absence of Sweeney Todd
(enforced) rendered it meaningless. To whom should anyone
complain? Pointless unless there’s a conspiracy. But year after
year these events are given embarrassing and engorged
prominence. It’s the acting/directing/whatever equivalent of
the duck’s neck. Force fed to make foie gras.

11 February
At one point, having said how tired she gets, Maggie’s hand
slips between mine.

12 February
Sophie Thompson brought flowers for Maggie – incredibly
sweet of her (and her sister [Emma] – lifelong fans from Jean
Brodie days).

3 March
6.45 pick-up.
The Astronomy Tower and the Death of Dumbledore. The
scene seems oddly lacking in drama – on the page – but that is
absolute cause and effect of screenplays that have to conflate
(deflate) the narrative. We don’t know – or remember –
enough about individual characters’ concerns to understand
their issues. Or care. To wit I argue (successfully, today) that a
line of Snape’s ‘I gave my word. I made a vow’ was confusing
and diluting.
‘Did you have to say it?’ Rima asks when I get home.
‘No, but I bet I will tomorrow.’

4 March
Inevitably, having agreed to the cut line all day, David
[Heyman] finds a valid (?) reason to ‘just try it’ on one take.
Pressure from where I wonder. It’s ridiculous but predictable
and I bet it winds up in the film.3

10 March
The line ‘take out your wand’ reduces Helena Bonham Carter
to helpless mirth and will be a bit of a Waterloo come
Thursday . . . Helen McCrory says she’s terrified but fits like a
glove with the mayhem. Which includes a few words on
Snape’s House being designed and built without any reference
to himself.

17 March
And back up the hillside. Bone-chillingly cold, Helena with
cleavage to the winds . . . me uttering the ironic lines ‘Yes. It’s
me. I’m the Half Blood Prince.’ We’re 100 yards from the
directorial tents so 2 takes and we’re out of there, one with
flames one without. All very coitus interruptus.

18 March
2pm Back to the Grove [Hotel].
The anonymous hotel room, the golf course stretching
forever, it seems, out of the window. Then the 1 o’clock news
on TV says ‘The Oscar-winning director’ – and time slows as
my brain runs through the Rolodex, never coming up with
‘Anthony Minghella died today’. This is all completely unreal.
Hand goes to mouth like bad acting. Talk to Juliet who is
beside herself . . . Then told to go home. Urged on by Juliet
we go to the BFI screening at 7.15 of The No. 1 Ladies’
Detective Agency, Anthony’s film in Botswana. And this is his
final work – gentle, fable-like, completely faithful (apparently
& typically) to the book. Nothing to do with the real Botswana
but it’s like a signal, a vapour, a whimsy of Minghella.

20 March
On the news two more obituaries – Brian Wilde from Last of
the Summer Wine is given precedence over Paul Scofield.4 In
one later bulletin, Scofield is not mentioned at all. A sign of
these lazy and crass times.

27 March
6.30 pick-up.
In Snape’s quarters all day w. Helena and Helen. Interesting
to be with the stage actress and the film actress – both a treat
but Helen needs and gives, Helena totally self-motivated, it
wouldn’t matter if you spoke Chinese to her.

5 April
Anthony Minghella’s memorial service.
 Even writing a day later it’s almost impossible to process.
First of all, it all felt like a movie set – so unreal. Still can’t take
it in. Then there’s the 400 people. Blair & Cherie are there,
Gordon Brown is there; looking around is to see a long
sequence of close-ups from the industry US and UK. Can’t
take it in. 3 hours long (with the Mass), it careers from the
blurry to the crystal clear, from the incomprehensible to the
profound, from near cringe-making to the deeply moving. Ant
was never cringe-making but in many ways the service did
reflect his many sides. It was definitely about billing and in the
case of Renée Zellweger, the cul-de-sac of stardom.

23 April
7.15 pick-up.
Back in the HP Bathroom and in Wellington boots when
the feet are out of shot. Through the day it’s all about this shot,
that shot. When Dan is left spinning in his own over-reactive
spiral I gently invoke the notion of 2 characters’ mutual respect
and of time standing still for a second. It works. For a while.

25 April
Russell Brand on Jonathan Ross.
I like Russell, but ohmigod I hate the faux naif thing that’s
inevitable when quirk meets ambition (see Gervais, R.). Just be
honest about it you fuckers. Don’t give us ‘who me?’ bullshit.

27 April
1pm The Priory to collect Ruby.
Hmm. So this is it . . . Big old white exterior, Ruby coming
out as we drive up to the main door.
Lunch at Riva, Church Road, Barnes. Back to the Priory
for the tour. Yellow walls, claustrophobia, food smells, cheap
wood cupboards in the rooms, small TV screens. Activities
included Drama Workshop, Assertiveness and Craftworks (for
Ruby?). But she battles bravely on, searching for the drug
balance. We talk of old friends, the need for less friends,
simpler lives, less ego. The constant, we-know-it-already, truth.

28 April
2.30 David Greig.5 Immediate rapport, I thought. Absolutely
on the same page – not ready to make decisions now. Wait a
bit. For the energy and specifics of the rehearsal room.

1 May
LONDON ELECTION.
8.30 Wake up, of course.
Doze until 11.30. Coffee in the bar. Car at 12. Home. Go
out to vote immediately. Woman with blue rosette foolishly
asks for our number. ‘No,’ snaps Rima. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Oh
well, variety . . .’ On the way out she tries again. ‘Hope to
persuade you to . . .’ Foolish. A torrent of (calm) anti-Boris
Johnson abuse falls from my lips, emboldened, no doubt, by my
quote in today’s Guardian. The British electorate proving yet
again that they never vote for anything. ‘Someone’s doing us
down . . . let’s disown him.’

3 May
Warm enough to sit outside on the balcony. Coffee and
Saturday’s Guardian dull the Boris Johnson nightmare. Fascist
mayor of Rome, Berlusconi, Sarkozy, President McCain? Bush
still there, Cameron at a gallop . . . God help us.

9 May
8 Dinner. Tim Burton & Helena Bonham Carter. Picked up by
Beatie at 7.30pm and whisked to Helena/Tim Land. It has
many fairy lights in its world and the garden is a grotto and
almost every room is toytown – but theirs is a miraculous
pairing with these two utterly open-faced children – faces that
have ‘can’t believe my luck’ written all over them.

24 May
Sky News is full of anti-Brown propaganda. How depressing
the English are . . . Cameron and his little band of droopy
drawers are what they deserve.

25 May
Campagnatico.
Beautiful, still, sunny afternoon. Until the phone call from
Ruby. She left her passport at home. Ed drove it to Stansted, but
they missed the plane by six minutes. Now they’re rerouted to
Rome. I call Melanie6 who finds Alessandro on his way to
collect Ruby and Marcia from Pisa. He turns round and heads
for Rome, collects them and they arrive at 11.30pm.

26 May
Long chat with Ruby about the Priory. In a way, it’s a rest
home for the unhappily sane, I think.

9 June
Campagnatico – London.

15 June
Absolute joy. Humphrey Lyttelton’s Desert Island Discs followed
by a brilliant tribute programme. Images of a standing ovation
at the Apollo Hammersmith after he played ‘We’ll Meet Again’
at the end of their tour. Plus that flowers were left at
Mornington Crescent7 when he died, had us both weeping.
Irreplaceable.
Phone call from Randy that Bottle Shock has 5 ovations
during the screening and I have won Best Actor in Seattle –
great for them and the film.

4 July
7.45 Black Watch. Barbican.
Breathtaking, the kind of precision, rigour and commitment
I despaired of seeing. Actors who move like athletes/dancers,
brilliant direction and design and with enough to say ‘it took
300 years to build an army and a few years of the worst
decision in western military history to destroy it’.

5 July
To bed at 2am. Up at 4.45am. To Heathrow at 5am. It can be
done.

8 July
Campagnatico.
Glorious Tuscan day for our first full day in our almost
finished home on the hill. Sabrina arrives to tinker with the
leaves. Tinkering is what I’m up to in the garden, in cupboards,
while Rima reads . . .

9 July
These are the days that have been fantasised about. Cool
mornings hearing the intermittent door-slams of a village
waking up; hot, still afternoons after a plate of melon,
prosciutto, cheese and tomato for lunch, and dinner under the
pergola watching the endless dissolves of the sunset. It is all like
a cheap(ish) novel.
pm The electrician man arrives to connect the fridge.
Seconds later it is full of wine and beer and there’s a corkscrew
in the next-door cupboard.

14 July
am The mini market, Antonio for citronella candles and the
café for panini and cappuccino. Be seen in the village, in the
shops.

24 July
San Francisco via Dallas.

25 July
San Francisco.
 The hunt for something to cover Madame’s shoulders on a
cool evening. SAKS. No luck.

26 July
Calistoga.
9pm Bottle Shock premiere.
It looks and sounds great. And they (the definition of a
captive audience) love it. Of course. But justifiably. Afterwards
– more wine. And then we all converge back at the hotel. For
some wine. A quiet escape to bed.

27 July
Calistoga.
9.30 and no groomer in sight.
11 Located groomer and → Chateau Montelena for a day of
press . . . First ‘phoner’ woman from Hell who has problems
with the film’s accuracy. The phone masks gritted teeth but I
pointed out that we weren’t making a documentary etc., etc.
and may have suggested that she loose her stays . . .

28 July
Calistoga → Los Angeles.
Print and radio round tables. One-on-one with the Daily
News and LA Times. Somewhere right in the middle the
unmistakeable rumble. The building shakes and 10 secs later it’s
over. An earthquake 5.4! The biggest since ’94.

1 August
8.30 pick-up.
10.40 became 12 → Newark.
11ish arrive at the home of Anne Hearst (granddaughter8)
and Jay McInerney.

2 August
The Hamptons.
6am A deer is on the lawn in front of the Gone with the Wind
House, mist lays over the greenness, the sun is fighting its way
through the wisteria. A swim in the pool in front of the house.
8pm Dinner. Anne H., Jay McI. and friends. Fairly quickly it
became evident that we were – phew! – surrounded by fervent
Democrats. It was even possible to share some Middle East
frustrations. Some beautiful wines on the table and Jay can
certainly get through them.

10 August
The Revenge of No. 38.
. . . now there’s a flood in the utility room, I’m ankle deep in
water with mop and bucket. Rima is on the phone looking for
a plumber who will come out on a Sunday, the cold is
streaming happily and my Psion organiser has gone mad so I
am without phone numbers or addresses. It is hard not to think
the house is angry with us. This, or something like it, happens
every time we come home, it seems.

17 August
Patti Love9 & Harriet. The Wolseley.
Patti’s birthday.
We’re in the middle of the restaurant. Harold P. and Antonia
are at one table behind us. Lucian Freud & friends adjacent.
Dear Fucking Diary. I went over to Harold and said, brightly,
‘How are you – it’s good to see you.’ Harold was quick to
remind me that Simon Gray had just died – his friend of 38
years. I blurted – ‘I was in America.’ Harold pretty much
snapped as to the relevance – I pointed out there is no news
there (Antonia’s hand closed over Harold’s). He acknowledged
this truth and we talked on Creditors and Strindberg. The
earthquake averted. I like him so much.

25 August
Creditors Day One.
Read the play. Start laying down some seeming ground
rules. Commit to the line. Listen hard. The 3 of them10 look
and sound great. But it’s clear where the steering & great
changes will have to be made.

27 August
pm Talk to Randy. Bottle Shock is holding up well . . . Could I
fly to Chicago maybe for Oprah . . .

4 September
On TV a first viewing of Sarah Palin. Ohmigod. Now the
worship of amateurism reaches elections and presidential levels.

6 September
Creditors.
10.30 Rehearsal room.
Run the play. Or stagger as it says on the rehearsal notice. It
was actually much braver than either word. Anna, Owen &
Tom have commitment written through them like the ever-
ready when you need it metaphor – stick of rock. A lot to
process, re-rehearse, develop – but now we have two weeks.

10 September
1.30 Production meeting.
At which, for me, the main point of discussion was
Germaine Greer’s programme contribution. A polemic against
marriage. Just what I was afraid of, so feet were put down.

28 September
First knowledge that Paul Newman has died. Wonderful actor,
wonderful self-effacing man. Honoured his family and his
profession. The dinner Lindsay & I had in NY a treasured
memory.
30 September
Creditors. Press night.
And from the start they were on it. And so, it seems, were
the audience. Afterwards no one seemed to want to go home
and the bar was packed with people shining with having seen
something v. special from those 3 heroes.

1 October
Michael Grandage calls to say everything written in the press so
far ‘is a rave’. Especially, in the Guardian anyway, for Owen . . .

3 October
7.30 Creditors.
And what the fuck were they doing playing it as if they were
at the RSC? Much acting, much loudness. In the dressing
room – guilty faces. Felt like Bill Shankly . . .11

5 October
Creditors seal of approval from the Observer. So whatever any
opprobrium elsewhere it has been a Donmar hit.

5 November
OBAMA WINS.
3am to bed. And it looks as if the miracle has happened.
8am. Back to the TV screen. It has. 52% of the US had a
supreme act of imagination.

6 November
Labour wins Glenrothes with a 6,700 majority. Maybe the
image of Cameron and Obama together is too much to
stomach.

17 November
4pm Car → Heathrow.
 6.30 – New York.

18 November
Hilary Shor [film producer] picks me up to go to Sunshine
Landmark/Houston for the premiere of Milk – Gus Van Sant’s
Harvey Milk film . . . The party afterwards at the Bowery
Hotel was the autograph hunter’s dream. Glitterati out in force.
Talked to Lauren Bacall, Stanley Tucci, Jeff Goldblum, Frances
McDormand (& Coen Bros), James Schamus.12 Around and
about – Naomi Watts, Natalie Portman, David Blaine, Mickey
Rourke.

25 November
Los Angeles.
12 Logan picks me up to go to Enterprise Rent-A-Car. And
here’s a reason for keeping a journal. Get in car, attempt 3
point reverse, out of car park, shoot forward on v. sensitive
accelerator, hit (v. gently) cars in front and behind, and while
waiting for resulting paperwork to be completed, listen to
phone messages and learn that I am being offered a CBE . . .

27 November
Write, appropriately, a thank-you but no-thank-you note
declining the CBE.
4 Rhea Perlman and Danny DeVito.
70 friends and family for dinner in their couldn’t-be-
anything-but-Hollywood home. Room after room, sofa after
sofa. Totally relaxed, totally social. Like Rhea and Danny
themselves. And these were clearly old friends and their
children from way back. Extra special was talking to the
amazing Arthur Lessac – legendary voice teacher and now 99
years old.

2 December
LA.
 Nobel Son premiere.

5 December
LA.
Early morning silence means, inevitably, the reviews are not
good. Here we go again.
Looking back on this trip is going to be formative, I think. Is
it possible to spend time in this town remotely productively,
adjacent to just the smallest amount of curiosity? All this is
certainly exhausting to listen to.

8 December
LA.
pm Chat with shattered – in every way – Randy [re Nobel
Son] . . . What can you say? Wrong title, wrong marketing,
right film.

13 December
Saturday in New York. In Greenwich Village. In 12th Street
between 4th Street and Greenwich Avenue. Total
neighbourhood. Cafe Cluny on one corner, the Cubby Hole
on another. A walk down to the party shop on Greenwich at
6th to buy tree lights and stuff, then up to Bed Bath & Beyond
at 18th, back to Food Emporium at 12th and home to a warm
house – it was freezing out there.

18 December
2pm Rima from London.

23 December
Christmas smash and grab. Bookshop, cake shop, supermarket,
bookshop again. Rima off to John Barrett [beauty salon]. None
of it necessarily in that order. Bookseller again.

24 December
Ian Rickson calls to tell me that Harold Pinter has died. As I
wrote to Antonia, one had got used to the fantasy that he
might just go on forever. And indeed he will.

26 December
1.30 Vicky Cristina Barcelona.
Woman’s Weekly tosh from Woody Allen.
12.30 The Box. While waiting for the 1.30am
cabaret/vaudeville/burlesque Francesca [Rima’s sister] showed
us the ready for anything loos (padded seat, footrests, horizontal
pole, mirror) which probably prepared us for the naked drag act
pulling a condom full of pills out of his rear end. It strove so
hard for effect it was ultimately rather innocent.

29 December
1pm Lunch w. Dan Radcliffe at Cafe Cluny. One minute he
was 12 now he’s 19. When did that happen? And he’s sensitive,
articulate & smart. And owns a 3 bed apt in NY.
1
Scottish actor and director (1944–)
2
Rachael Taylor, Australian actor (1984–)
3
It didn’t.
4
English actor (1922–2008)
5
Scottish playwright (1969–). He was adapting Creditors by August Strindberg.
6
Melanie Parker, A.R.’s PA
7
London tube station and the name of a game on BBC Radio 4’s I’m Sorry I Haven’t
a Clue
8
Of media tycoon Randolph Hearst
9
British actor (1947–)
10
Anna Chancellor, Owen Teale and Tom Burke (A.R.’s godson)
11
Scottish manager of Liverpool football club famous for his expletive-riddled
reactions to poor performances
12
American screenwriter (1959–)
 2009
NEW YORK – OBAMA INAUGURATION – NATASHA
RICHARDSON – JAMES JOYCE AWARD, DUBLIN –
CAMPAGNATICO – IAN McKELLEN – EDNA O’BRIEN
– NEIL AND GLENYS KINNOCK – HARRY POTTER –
LIAM NEESON – ALAN CUMMING – RUBY WAX –
THE BEATLES – HARRY POTTER 7 PART 2 – RALPH
FIENNES – DUBLIN – JOHN MORTIMER – NEW
YORK – THE BOX

3 January
New York.
To Martha Clarke, Connecticut.
11.48 → Harlem Valley–Wingdale.
Martha collects us at the station. First stop visiting Mr Grey,
the eye-injured horse, and local horse-whisperer/nurse and her
HP obsessed daughter. Then to Martha’s house. Within
minutes of being inside I wanted to live in it, own it, borrow it.
Arshile Gorky did it in the ’40s and it is utterly covetable –
beamed, galleried, windowed heaven . . . Spent the day stoking
the fire, surrounded by books. Chicken supper, Martha’s
magpie mind skittering from passion to intrigue to struggle to
passion again.

5 January
New York.
Lunch w. Theresa Rebeck.1
Who tells of the latest scam whereby directors now claim a
piece of the writers’ financial action on the basis of how they
have (as Diane Borger put it) ‘fixed your bad play’.
Outfuckingrageous.
 Maybe it’s time actors claimed a piece of the directors’
royalties on the same basis.

9 January
New York.
12 The Box. Extraordinary Japanese dancer and a
girl . . . who did a reverse striptease – clothes came from every
orifice and shoes from a wig. Unforgettable. Bed – crazily – at
4am.

14 January
London.
Clearing the decks, rearranging the piles, throwing away the
many envelopes. Staring in some disbelief at my Amex bill.

20 January
Barack Obama Inauguration Day.
3.30 Electric Cinema, Portobello Road, for Ruthie Rogers’
Inaugural Day screening party.
Perfect way to ‘be there’ if you can’t ‘be there’. Along with
Kathy Lette, Ruby W., Danny & Leila, Mariella Frostrup, Eric
Fellner [from Working Title], Richard & Sue Eyre, Philippa
Yentob [Alan Yentob’s wife], Jemima Khan, Jeremy King
[restaurateur], Debra Hauer [film producer], Tessa Jowell.
Somehow we’d all been so moved beforehand by the idea of
it all that it all seemed like a simple progress in a way. And his
speech was short on rhetoric, doubtless deliberately, but packed
with stuff to think about and teasing suggestions of his
priorities.

24 January
1.30 Scott’s. Lunch.
At the next table was an interesting group of ladies who
lunch. Lynn Barber, Virginia Ironside, Tracey Emin & two
others. Nigella Lawson & Charles Saatchi also there and we
talked outside while he had a cigarette. He’s a right-winger
with a sense of irony. He and Rima already, of course, got on.

26 January
8 The Wolseley.
As so often, it seems, Lucian Freud at the next table. My
basest urges are to say (1) ‘Can I have a painting?’ or (2) ‘Paint
me.’ Anything, really, to connect with that massive talent.

31 January
Rima’s birthday.

8 February
BAFTA night. Oh God, how many more awards can we give
ourselves? On the news Australia burns and Gaza is in ruins.

10 February
7.30 Damascus. Tricycle [Theatre].
David Greig’s play inspired by his Middle East trips working
with young writers and encountering an entirely other
sensitivity. Wry, gentle, but uncompromising – like David
himself – and an unbelievably accurate cast including someone
who said with total believability ‘I am a Ukrainian transsexual
pianist’ and scored on every word.

17 February
New York.
8pm to Minetta Lane to collect Martha Clarke, Suzanne
Bertish & Stephanie Carlton Smith [artist] – not before
defending de Valera to Frank McCourt on the pavement
outside . . .

20 February
Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital on 165th.
 Reading stories to a group of 5–12-year-olds and then
visiting some kids in their wards. The succession of drip stands
and dazed expressions meant that a bit of self-drilling was
needed. The desire to just hug them was irresistible except it
looked as if they might break.

21 February
Birthday and it’s another one but in NY . . .

22 February
The Oscars.
No big surprises except Sean Penn rather than Mickey
Rourke. Kate Winslet wins her Oscar2 – thank God since
apparently someone is videoing her kids’ reaction at the
announcement which initially sounds like a horrible idea but
actually – quite right and why not? As ever, anyway, after 3
hours of it all, it becomes embarrassing and pointless and
indulgent and embarrassing again. Not to mention the
vulgarity of Queen Latifah singing ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ to
pictures of Ant, P. Newman and Sydney Pollack.

8 March
6 To BAFTA.
7 Mark Shivas memorial.
God knows what he would have made of it and of course it
should have happened while he was still alive.

9 March
7.30 Donmar, Be Near Me.
Ian McDiarmid’s play version of Andrew O’Hagan’s novel.
Elegaic, cerebral, inward, reflective. Like Ian really.

14 March
9.30 Wall – David Hare.
Theatre? Lecture? Glad to hear it – could have read it.
17 March
Today one of the saddest, most surreal days ever. An early call
from Ralph Fiennes in New York – 7 o’clock his time – with
‘terrible news’. Natasha has had a bad fall skiing in Canada,
thought she was OK, then collapsed. She is now brain dead,
Liam is flying up to bring her home so that people can say their
goodbyes. Just that. All in one simple, devastated breath. When
I put down the phone I must have sat in one place for an hour
and then wandered. Left a message for Liam. Spent the day
answering the phone and cancelling appointments. All in a
daze. Absolute unreality. That lass unparalleled, the world’s
greatest host. Her life, her days, her every minute checked,
cross-checked, crammed. Energy, glamour, talent, fury,
compassion, generosity, ego, laughter, smoke, intelligence,
wisdom, sarcasm, fun, speed, honesty, vulnerability, taste,
improvisation, order. In the midst of the deepest laugh she
knew how things should be. Except this.

18 March
Joanna – Liam & Tash’s PA – calls to say that they will let her
go at 6pm New York time.
Midnight and Tash has gone. It’s inconceivable that her sheer
force will not be around. The chin tipped up, the mind racing
for the next topic before the current sentence is finished, the
door opening, the welcome immense.

19 March
All day the news broadcasts are filled with her smiling upturned
chattering face. Later on Liam, Joely [Richardson] & Vanessa
[Redgrave] returning home to an onslaught of photographers.
Today was the Scofield tribute at the National. I couldn’t
cope. Stayed at home, pottered around, utterly aimless.

21 March
To New York and Connecticut.
 6.55 → New York after Rima did some heroic internet
booking.

22 March
Tash’s funeral. Clear and sunny.
Tash in her coffin surrounded by photographs and posters.
She looks like something from a shop window – incredibly
shiny, hard and made-up. Her but not her as Laura Linney said.
Ciarán & Helene, Meryl Streep, Mia Farrow, Ralph F., [John
Benjamin] Hickey, Aidan Quinn, Joely, Tom H., Vanessa, Lynn
[Redgrave], Ann Roth3 as well as Jemma R. and 50 or 60
others. Micheál and Daniel [N.R.’s sons] are not afraid to smile
with their friends and seem amazingly unfazed – maybe that’s
good. Daniel apparently has described the whole thing as ‘a
fake’. So doubtless something will hit them later, alone. Into
the house for lunch and then down to the beautiful little
church – turn right past the crowd of paparazzi and TV
cameras . . . Deeply personal service – Liam wonderful, funny
and open, Vanessa reading the Shepherd from Winter’s Tale,
Lynn the lesson, beautifully – Joely, Carlo (her brother), his
wife Jennifer sang, Ralph read a poem about the sun,
Catherine’s mother Grizelda and Franco sang an Italian song w.
Vanessa.
Later Liam . . . told us all that because Tash was an organ
donor her ‘heart, kidneys and believe it or not her liver’ had
been successfully transplanted. The doctor said she had the
heart of a 25-year-old.

23 March
To New York.
7am One of my overriding thoughts from yesterday is that
Liam is going to be fine. In a way, even, acknowledging his
absolute love for Tash, he will be released. At the viewing
yesterday, he even voiced what I have often thought. ‘How did
this happen? This woman came along and said “Right – we’re
getting married. We’ll have a couple of children and we might
as well start now.”’ Conned, in a way, into a life of parties,
houses and responsibility. The man who runs with the dog and
sits on the riverbank, fishing. He also said after the service ‘But
you know however much I sighed at “we’re going to dinner” I
was always the last to leave. So I have learned.’

27 March
Dublin.
1.20 picked up and driven to University College, Dublin.
2.15 James Joyce award. A little like being picked over by
serried ranks of medical students but they were open and
generous.
4.30 On the road to Moyne, Limerick.
Just enough time to finish The Secret Scripture.4 Boy, will my
review be fresh.
6ish Sebastian and Alison and the Old Rectory,
Knockananna.

28 March
Late am drive, walk, lunch in a pub in a valley, walk in and
around stunning Limerick countryside. Limerick? Wicklow.
Time to talk to Sebastian about his brilliant book. It begins as
lyrical, elegiac S. Barry & consciously moves towards Dickens.

8 April
7.30 Plague Over England.
[Drama critic] Nicholas de Jongh’s play about the arrest of
John Gielgud [re homosexuality]. Some good writing here and
there but not a play. Halfway through I thought ‘it’s a TV film’
and then in the interval Neil Bartlett5 told us that it is to be
filmed. Hopefully with Mickey F.6 and Celia Imrie who both
do great work. The reviews outside are excellent. One can
only say ‘of course they are’.

19 April
Dogma was on TV tonight. Watched as much of it (i.e. as little)
as I could bear. Why is the actuality of one’s work so far from
the intention?

21 April
To Pisa and Campagnatico.

23 April
Shakespeare’s birthday, I suddenly remember. Memories of
Stratford, bunches of daffodils in a procession, barracking the
South African ambassador.
The Budget. 50% tax rate for some.
Slew of phone calls before dinner. Rima is finishing Secret
Scripture. ‘I knew it was him, right at the beginning . . .’ I’m
shelling broad beans, topping and tailing green beans, snapping
asparagus. R adds to roast potatoes (most of which, thankfully, I
dropped on the floor) and some unidentifiable fish and that =
supper.

28 April
Lunch at Pizza Papageno watching the Pope receiving people
at the L’Aquila earthquake site.

2 May
Watched Il Divo. Brilliantly imagined and inhabited –
frustrating to have so little knowledge of Italian political history,
but the spectre of Berlusconi invades the whole film in spite of
there being only the briefest mention at the beginning.

8 May
11.30ish on the road. Livorno → Pisa → Aeroporto. Avis Car
return (no scratches). Shuttle bus. So much calmer than the
Roma experience. And then madness. Gatwick. On to the
train to the South Terminal to get the train. Which wasn’t the
Gatwick Express. For which you can pay on board. Result –
potential fine at Victoria. Not on my life. A Chinese family is
just standing at the front of the taxi queue. ‘You have to go
around,’ we helpfully indicate. ‘It doesn’t matter, we have a
baby.’ I’m thinking ‘Your pram equals my suitcase.’ There’ll be a
fight, we warn him, just before noticing the woman in full
friend-powered wheelchair toiling through the queue.
Welcome to England.

22 May
A phone call from Independent Talent Agency.
‘Would I get on a jet (private) on Sunday to present an award
in Cannes?’ Sorry. Party.
7.30 Waiting for Godot. Theatre Royal, Haymarket.
Weirdly the first time I’ve ever seen the play. Alternately
soul-full and soul-less in this production. Hard to believe that
two very famous people are waiting for anything. But it is an
evening full of joys from everyone. Crazy for it to be criticised
for being too populist. A lot of it is music-hall. Ian McKellen
full of quiet wonders. Simon Callow unforgettably blind with
Ronald Pickup v. moving Lucky.

24 May
Ian McK. 70th.
A magician. La Clique. Wall to wall friends. As Ian said –
Family. All in his lovely house on the river on a sunny May
evening. David Owen7 was away so his terrace was purloined.
Armistead Maupin and Dena H[ammerstein] appear to have
flown in specially.

25 May
7.30 Edna O’Brien. The Wolseley.
Edna’s very up. Her play (Haunted) is getting some great
reviews . . . Today in the Guardian she has let it be known that
she is 78 – impossible to believe. Over dinner we hear of her
affairs with David Owen, John Fortune8 and John Freeman;9
antipathy with Dena H.; stand-off with Harold Pinter (re
Vanity); talking to Beckett on the Underground, being told by
Elizabeth Bowen10 that she was ‘talented and mad’.

7 June
Headache, vomiting, exhaustion and a flooded bathroom. Bad
combination and a lot of mea culpa.
2pm NT. Rehearse Pinter tribute.
Ian [Rickson] at his Buddhist, inclusive best. ‘What do you
think . . .?’ ‘Or do you think that . . .?’ He insists on offering
alternatives. I’m not sure why. Just tell us what you want.
7 Performance.
‘Oh I love actors,’ said Eileen Atkins as we came off. ‘They
just get up there and do it.’ In some cases, brilliantly. In ours –
fine from Lindsay & Gina McKee but I was chasing my own
tail – aware of how difficult the material is and annoyed at the
inevitable generalising.

11 June
Eyes open. I have (from nowhere) a cold. The news all day is of
course all about swine flu. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ says Rima.
‘You’d have to have been in contact with blah, blah . . .’

21 June
Didn’t have to be anywhere.
See anyone.
Do anything.
The sun shone a bit outside.
The air was cool.
There was plenty of mindless TV to wade through.
A few letters to answer.
Some lamb for dinner.
 And the longest day . . .

28 June
1pm Lunch w. Neil and Glenys K.
w. James Naughtie and Ellie [his wife]. Visited briefly by
Rachel11 w. Grace and later, on his own, complete with wizard
robe and broom, son Joe who fires off 25 questions about HP.
Apart from that utterly disarming episode this was a great and
glorious lunch (til 7pm . . .) with so much insider talk that the
head still reels. Labour Party hopeless, Gordon won’t take
decisions, loathing of Hazel Blears,12 Mandelson (of course),
mistrust of Miliband, grudging respect (I think) for Cameron’s
cleverness. Wonderful story of [Jeffrey] Archer’s Madoff-like13
nature (surprise . . .) – couldn’t have been happier. Neil
appeared thrilled with our gift of a mint condition Spitting
Image board game – him, Gorbachev, Reagan, Thatcher etc.
‘Oh David Owen, he made a speech the other day, the word
“I” every other word.’

29 June
8 Rima off to Italy.

1 July
3.30 To UCH [University College Hospital] to visit Miriam
Karlin.
Miriam’s in a sealed ‘container’ still furious that she was
resuscitated but the anger at that swims in and out of her other
topics – Hazel Blears currently tops the list.
She’s had a hip replacement, a duodenal ulcer and C. difficile
(maybe) and yet she brushes aside all concerns about herself.
She wants to ‘show off ’ her walking skills and she is vibrantly
curious and funny about endless issues. Half dead and more
alive than almost anyone I know.

2 July
Somewhere in here, finally, the deal is done for HP 7 Parts 1
and 2, and people are all carefully left in possession of genitalia.

3 July
Tom Burke. To talk about what? Where? How? How long?
The respect that he has earned needs to be matched by the
work offered. And we could all say that.

7 July
5.15 Massive hailstorm and then on the way to Leicester Square
(more downpour) for the HP 6 premiere. Sodden, happy,
screaming crowds – before exiting a back door into Lisle Street
and home for a pizza.

9 July
HP 6. New York.
Party at the Natural History Museum.
The desire to eat and even more get a drink is matched only
by the need to bang the 3 Davids’14 heads against the nearest
wall. I get the character development and the spiffing effects
(dazzling) but where is the story????

11 July
6 Liam . . . for a drink. He seems at peace but there is such an
absence. The last time I was in the apartment Tash sat in the
same seat as Liam.

14 July
Late – reading the programme notes for Les Ephemeres it floats
through my mind that I met Pina Bausch, I know Ariane
Mnouchkine,15 I have worked with Ninagawa and Sturua16 –
these absolute theatrical heroes who have shaped my
imagination and shown me what is possible in the theatre. It
was a sudden heat surge of real privilege.

19 July
All day discovering in detail how surrounded I am by paper –
accountants, banks, electricians, builders, health insurance,
other insurance, charities, theatre boards – all with agendas,
annual reports, contracts, invoices – they weigh the house
down.
All this being sorted and filed/dispatched against the
background of the British Open golf tournament . . . Amazing
that so many overweight men can call it a sport. Hit a small
ball, walk through some glorious countryside and galleried
throngs, hit small ball again.

24 August
HP.
3 Davids come into my trailer and I have to push the bile
back down. Not very successfully. I try to channel the
inarticulacy into words like ‘process’ and ‘narrative’ and maybe
we reach a way forward. Time – even at this stage – will tell.
Costume felt very tight.

27 August
Supper w. Ruby & Ed.
Ed in mourning as Maddy goes off to university (she’s
coming back the first weekend) and clearly she still wants to be
an actress, so good luck sociology department.

1 September
3.30 Tea with Miriam K. plus Allan [Corduner] & [his
husband] Juha.
Mim can hardly lift the teapot but somehow she’s
immaculate – hair done, nails manicured, cakes on the table
and a dozen topics of conversation, endless curiosity and
surrounded by books and her love of Radio 4. And somehow
she still has sex appeal – her memories of lovers – ‘I’ve never
thought of that – I had Mitch17 and Stanley Kowalski’18 is
acute. She’s a national treasure on every level.
2 September
8 Alan Cumming at the Vaudeville.
An indefinable event. Alan has the most undeniable charm
and a fund of the greatest stories stemming from a brave and
honest place. And the songs are original and challenging.
When he says he ‘acts’ them, however, I suppose I’d prefer a
little less acting (the microphone is a near-relative of the close-
up) and a bit more thinking. Plus the real Alan C. has a much
darker, more determined soul than he’s owning up to and the
real show might reflect that.

4 September
7 Ruby – Live at the Priory.
The good news is – it works. But it’s still in its birth pangs
which means Ruby is nervous which means she uses Judith19 as
a scapegoat. On stage. Disastrous. But she recovers and through
sheer courage and acting ability she has the audience cheering.
It’s a very brave and moving show which needs dials adjusting
and then it will be fine, if always fairly unpredictable.

5 September
At-home day . . . 2 Beatles films (documentaries) and that
leaves us wreathed in nostalgia. But we were lucky to have
been there then, buying the White Album and listening to it,
knowing we had just bought an all-time classic. These songs are
in our bones now – a harmonic intro, a chorus, a headshake are
triggers to an extraordinary montage of memories and images –
friends, parties, love affairs, dancing, tight sweaters, trousers
tight and wide, short jackets, pointed shoes.

10 September
3pm David Yates [HP director]. For some reason I have lost the
edit button in HP conversations, and having unerringly spotted
a fatal flaw in the Snape/Voldemort final showdown I didn’t
beat about the bush. David Y., however, does exactly what he
wants. There is a kind of listening but real stubbornness. A man
who nods sympathetically and goes nowhere unplanned or so it
seems.

5 October
HP 7 Part 2.
Day One.
5am wake up . . . 5.45 pick-up.
The cold/virus/whatever is at its filthiest. All day.
Can’t speak. Certainly can’t act. Unfortunately required to
do both.
8pm Home. Utter exhaustion.

7 October
6.45 pick-up.
Ralph F. fantastically impressive all day long. Free and
disciplined and totally Voldemort.
Chat to the documentary team doing a Fly on the Wall –
milking the cow one more time.

8 October
Re-shot all my lines. Must have been pretty dire Day One.

9 October
Re-shot all my lines again . . . Something is very
wrong . . . apart from the deadly nature of the lines themselves.

15 October
James Macdonald [theatre director] talking about John Gabriel
Borkman and other possibilities.

16 October
Message from James Macd. saying (not unseriously) what about
Streep and Close?

30 October
Dublin.
8.30 Town Bar & Grill.
Dinner w. Frank.20
Skating round the Borkman topic, but Frank treats topics of
conversation like a pack of cards – shuffle, deal, play. And with
the associated amount of fun, too. Never so serious that a
snicker isn’t just around the corner.

31 October
10.45 Coffee w. James Macd. and Frank McG.
So the upshot of it all is that, come September [2010], we’ll
do John Gabriel Borkman at the Abbey, Dublin.

3 November
2 Carlos Lumière [photographer].
Ohmigod. A fashion shoot. Mutton dressed as all sorts of
lamb is my fear. Odd how uncomfortable I am with this aspect
of the job nowadays . . . I felt fat.

15 November
7pm John Mortimer tribute.
And, amazingly – as ever – actors sniff out clues, possibilities
and stitch something together. Something rather wonderful and
honest and touching. The best for me was watching John’s
Oxford Union debate with Whitehouse21 and Longford.22
Well, his speech, anyway. Lethal and charming.

16 November
7am pick-up. HP.
 To rehearse what is called ‘The Boathouse Scene’. Otherwise
known as the Death of Snape.
An empty sound stage with David Yates, Ralph and me.
David is the most impenetrable mix of sweet-natured and
immovable. He prefers, really, to just tell you what the story is,
who you are playing, what you are thinking and where you
stand, move, sit, look. Ralph and I (in a boathouse) put our
oars in and I see David making a huge effort to let us have our
heads. We start to get somewhere oxygenated.

17 November
11 Southwark Cathedral. John Mortimer memorial service.
Beautifully orchestrated service (would John think it a deal
with the devil to have so many God references? The head
religioso referred to him as an Atheist for Jesus). Everyone,
appropriately, was there and Neil K. made a speech that
knocked any actoring competition out of the water.

25 November
HP. 6.15 pick-up.
To the Flight Shed . . .
Cold, wet, draughty but the crew seem miles away so Ralph
and I can just get on with inching our way towards the scene.
David Y. stubborn as ever about V[oldemort] killing me with a
spell. (Impossible to comprehend, not least the resultant wrath
of the readers.)
Great working with Ralph, though. Direct and true and
inventive and free.
Back home and Rima (narrative brainbox) says ‘He can’t kill
you with a spell – the only one that would do that is Avada
Kedavra and it kills instantly – you wouldn’t be able to finish
the scene.’

26 November
HP. 6.15 pick-up.
 And the scene goes on through the day and the angles and
lenses. The Death of Snape. Nearly ten years later. At least it’s
just down to two actors . . . David is vulnerable and endearing
when he’s excited. And he is by this scene. It’s the absolute
example of what can happen when a couple of actors pick up a
scene off the page and work with the story, the space and each
other. Stuart Craig’s23 Boathouse gave it something ironic and
everlasting. As I said at one point to David – it’s all a bit epic
and Japanese.

1 December
To New York.

2 December
During the day, we go furniture shopping and discover
identical lamps at Wyeth for $7,200 and at Restoration
Hardware for $799.

3 December
8 A Steady Rain. Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman and a play in
there somewhere. Or rather a story on stage. To the dressing
rooms afterwards . . . Daniel and Hugh have just auctioned
their sweaty t-shirts (Aids funding) for $40,000.

18 December
10 Talk to James Macdonald. An offer will go to Sinead Cusack
to start with. He talks of Marie Mullen24 – I talk of Harriet
[Walter].

25 December
Walk along the High Line to 20th Street.

29 December
Unbelievably cold so that on the way to lunch I turned and
walked backwards against the wind, tripped on the mini railings
around a tree and took all my weight on my right wrist.
30 December
11 To St Vincent’s Emergency Room. X-rays and a
splint . . . is it a sprain or a fracture? It is definitely a bore.
pm The Miele Gasman Cometh. There is a leak.

31 December
9 Pamela [D’Arc, real estate agent] & Andrew [her husband].
10 The Box – Even madder than usual – meant that food
arrived two hours later and voiceboxes severely strained, but
there was the reverse striptease to compensate along with an
amazing gymnast, a trannie with a bottle . . . Pamela danced
with a naked man while we finished our strip steaks.
1
American playwright (1958–)
2
For The Reader
3
American costume designer (1931–)
4
Novel by Sebastian Barry
5
British director (1958–)
6
English actor Michael Feast (1946–)
7
British politician Dr David Owen (1938–), I.McK.’s neighbour
8
English satirist (1939–2013)
9
BBC interviewer (1915–2014)
10
Irish-British novelist (1899–1973)
11
The Kinnocks’ daughter
12
Labour politician (1956–)
13
Bernie Madoff (1938–2021), American fraudster and financier
14
Harry Potter producers: David Heyman, David Yates, David Barron
15
French director (1939–) of Les Ephemeres
16
Robert Sturua (1938–), Georgian theatre director
17
Robert Mitchum, American movie star (1917–1997)
18
Character in Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire
19
Judith Owen, Welsh singer-songwriter (1959–)
20
Irish writer Frank McGuinness (1953–), adapter of JGB
21
Mary Whitehouse (1910–2001), British teacher and conservative activist
22
Lord Longford (1905–2001), British peer and social reformer
23
HP production designer
24
Irish actor (1953–)
 2010
NEW YORK – KATE WINSLET – A LITTLE CHAOS –
SUSAN SARANDON – SOUTH AFRICA – ATHOL
FUGARD – RUTH ROGERS – MICHAEL GAMBON –
LAST DAY OF HARRY POTTER – NEW YORK –
CREDITORS – THE SONG OF LUNCH –
CAMPAGNATICO – VOLTERRA – HARRY POTTER
WRAP PARTY – DUBLIN (JOHN GABRIEL BORKMAN)
– LINDSAY DUNCAN – FIONA SHAW – BRIAN FRIEL
– NEW YORK, A LITTLE CHAOS – JAMAICA – DAME
HARRIET WALTER

1 January
New York.
2.45am. Home. Bed. New Diary.

4 January
A day of waiting for the gasman . . . trying to negotiate the
American Healthcare System – everything starts with ‘How
will you pay?’ The hospital for special surgery is calling
tomorrow – all this for a nagging but small, residual pain.

5 January
To St Vincent’s for the protracted business – ‘Go upstairs, fill in
the form.’ ‘Go downstairs – it’s $10 – come back with the
form, collect the CD’ – of collecting my wrist X-rays.

7 January
9.30 Cafe Cluny.
Coffee and talk with Kate Winslet. A Little Chaos steps out
and glowing, iridescent Kate loves the script so it’s a brilliant
start.
 Later to the Neue Galerie Klimt to Klee via Schiele and
Kokoschka.
Then to 145 Hospital for Special Surgery. Dr Hotchkiss
instantly reassuring on all fronts.

9 January
1pm Susan S[arandon]. Zampa. Turns out the split was Susan’s
making and as ever from the standpoint of her constant 360
degrees wisdom. Maybe Tim sees it differently.

12 January
BACK to 38WT.
3.30am (8.30am) on the plane a slow but sudden (here
comes jet lag) thought that living in New York makes you look
at your life in London through different eyes. What to keep,
what to discard, where to focus more. Watching time slip, slide
and cascade by from two different perspectives.
10ish. Long, dragging journey through jams to 38WT.
Which itself has the dark-eyed mournful Cornelia (‘I came at
7am’) on the other end of all the dust and disturbance.
The contrast with NY is epic. Suddenly, here is a life
circumscribed by piles of paper, possessions, STUFF.
Immediately, the compulsion is to change, discard, shed,
rearrange, dilute, SIMPLIFY.

14 January
HP.
6.30 pick-up. After a night of not sleeping at all.
Scene 305. In the Flight Shed. Or – The Last Breath of
Severus Snape.
The Flight Shed is freezing, slush on the ground – ‘colder
inside than out’ says Chris, my driver. Here I am with Dan,
Emma and Rupert 10 (?) years on (Emma is here on a break
from Brown University), blood all over my throat from an
imagined nagini,1 the three of them still with furrowed brows
and panting a bit. Finding it hard to remember any particular
scenes over the years mainly because all the decisions are taken
in committee rooms and not on the floor. We listen as D.Y.
tells us what we are thinking and why (and in some cases
recounts the story . . .) and a small piece of something creative
caves in.

17 January
2.45 River Cafe.
Wonderful opportunity to poke David H. about the Flight
Shed, nicking props, what would happen if an American actor
showed up, absence of producers etc., etc. and all provoked by
him arriving with a compliment about the scene w.
Daniel . . . I have no STOP buttons with some people.
Especially when they’re smart and dumb and there’s no need.

20 January
James [Macdonald] called. He’s offered to Lindsay and Fiona.

21 January
News this morning that I won’t be needed on HP until March.
IT PRODUCES SPACE IN MY HEAD . . .

25 January
2.15 Hygienist.
The Cruella de Vil version. If I’m not wincing from the
nerves she’s hitting, I’m gagging on the suction pipe, whilst
drowning in spray. Somewhere through this and the din made
by her scraper-tool she’s asking me questions or giving me mini
lectures about wine, peppermint tea etc., etc. Get me out of
there.

7 February
Reading Antonia F.’s book2 about Harold and she calls her
diary her friend. Mine or my relationship with it is often more
resentful. A pity and wrong. It would have been great to find
something specific and personal about Tash . . .3

12 February
CAPE TOWN.
5.30 Car to FUGARD THEATRE.
It’s in District Six – an amalgam of a church and warehouse
and Mark [Dornford-May, director] has learned from the Royal
Court and the Young Vic and left plaster (and ghosts) clinging
to the walls. A beautiful theatre, stunning rehearsal room and
jaw-dropping roof with Table Mountain as a backdrop. The
Magic Flute was as transporting as ever – not an egomaniac in
sight on stage, and Athol Fugard [playwright] speaking about
the building and performers coming home afterwards.

15 February
CAPE TOWN → LONDON.

21 February
9pm Watching BAFTAs.
Jonathan Ross needs better jokes. We need to be less
favouring to the US. Vanessa looked wonderful but I have no
idea where she was going in her speech.

25 February
6.15 Car to Leicester Square. Alice in Wonderland premiere.
In the rain. Tough on all the been there for hours fans.
Sign/flash/flash. Line up for Charles & Camilla. He – ‘Are you
still on Harry Potter?’ She – ‘Haven’t seen you for ages.’ Then
the movie. Absolutely ravishing – strange and deep and
complex and beautiful.

26 February
7.30 Love Never Dies.
The new Lloyd Webber musical (Phantom 2). I think it has a
tune that we’ll all be singing, another one that has the same
opening notes as ‘Room With A View’, and definitely a couple
of knockout leading ladies.4 Where was the plot?

8 March
11 Ruthie Rogers.
To work through her eulogy for tomorrow’s funeral. Rose
Gray5 her 25-year partner. Ruthie – the great organiser – is
suddenly terribly vulnerable. She’s written a beautiful and
funny/sad speech. I buckle down and talk about breathing and
highlighter pens.
3.15 To HP to rehearse with Michael Gambon.
Fairly quick in and out. It’s clear what the scene needs. On
the way back to the trailer Michael talks of his fear of
learning/forgetting his lines. And then he tells me he’s doing
Krapp’s Last Tape6 – what’s wrong with this picture??

10 March
Just me and Michael G. all day. He’s vulnerable after his illness
and yesterday’s primer was no joke for him. The lines are a real
problem for him. Technology helps and why not? It’s never
great when it’s just a memory loss – no relaxation, no freedom,
no contact. I’d have boards and autocue everywhere. And
anyway when he unleashes a bit of magnificence it’s effortless
and spellbinding.
Michael’s stories are wonderful. On Broadway he found a
job (no pay) as a motorbike mechanic [with] ENGLISH BIKES
to fend off loneliness and boredom. One night doing Skylight
[play by David Hare] he couldn’t open the door to get on. It
was kicked down. He climbed over it.
Rima says Ruthie was wonderful at the service today. I
phoned, caught R[ichard Rogers]. Then Ruthie called back.
She had cried when reading it to Richard this morning, was
nervous in the cab, but calm in the pulpit. Attagirl.

11 March
7.45 pick-up.
In the evening at Godric’s Hollow and Snape going into the
house to find Lily. Great concentration, great crew all out in
the cold until 9.30pm. No sight or sound of a producer and a
new low in disgusting food – cornish pasties, sausage rolls,
white rolls with other sausages, more white bread with melted
processed cheese, all straight from the cheapest bakery, half cold
and ashamed of itself.

12 March
The strangest feeling – giving vent to Snape’s emotions after
years of snappy aloofness. Not funny to have the scene
interrupted (without a ‘sorry’, of course). ‘You don’t mind, do
you?’ ‘Yes, I do.’ ‘Oh – well don’t be like that.’ ‘You asked if I
minded.’ ‘Yes well I realise now that was my mistake.’

22 March
6.40 pick-up.
Snape the headmaster.
Tortuous dialogue – monologue – slightly brain-frying.

24–25 March
Many angles, different numbers of children, Maggie going nuts
waiting.

29 March
6.15 pick-up.
LAST DAY ON HARRY POTTER – All a bit hard to
believe. I think even Daniel was shocked by the finality.
Cameras were everywhere, it seemed (docu ones). ‘So how
does it feel?’ Before you’ve felt it, before the feeling has a name.
‘It’s private’ I managed ‘and I’m not sharing it with that’
pointing at his lens – sympathetic, empathetic friend this
morning, embarrassed nosey parker this afternoon.
Something is in those cans and it is finished. Thanks, Jo.

6 April
10 O’Clock News. Corin7 died at the weekend. This is
monstrously unfair – to pile all this grief on to one family.

7 April
[Re Creditors]
4pm A run. And there were some breathtaking things going
on, particularly from Anna [Chancellor] who hits levels of
freedom that astonish. And when she and Tom [Burke] are
hammer and tongs it is, amazingly, just like life . . .

10 April
CREDITORS TO NEW YORK.
11.30 car to Heathrow. ‘I hated you in that Fish Called
Wanda,’ says the driver.

14 April
The tech starts. If only it were just a tech – I’m a bit concerned
that Owen [Teale] is losing his nerve, added to weird ideas
about softening his character. But we plough on through the
evening towards an 11 o’clock exit. Technical staff all fantastic –
actors feeling their way. Why am I surprised?

15 April
4pm Dress rehearsal No 1.
Finally, Owen joins the play and if this had been an opening
night I would have been OK with it.

16 April
7.30 First preview.
 Scary, all those people – laughing. A lot. When you haven’t
been expecting it. Rabbits jump in front of headlights for the
actors. And they start to push. Moving on.

20 April
CREDITORS OPENING NIGHT.
7.30 Show.
Which started well and then became, probably only to my
ears, a touch underpowered. 83% to its usual 100%.

22 April
That New York thing. Rave reviews and the phone rings.

26 April
Witness for the Prosecution.
Happy band gathers, except for Uma Thurman who is ‘at
the doctors’ with a disc problem.

1 May
am Anna phone call. ‘I’m in a bit of trouble . . .’ No sleep,
blinding headache. Told her to get into a car and come over.
Phoned Dr Barry Kohn. Which hospital? St Vincent’s is
closed. 60th and 10th – Roosevelt/St Luke’s. And then on until
5pm. Saline drips, blood pressure, CAT scans, MRI scan.
Nothing sinister there, but the headache won’t go. Now they
can give ibuprofen and Anna, sure that it is something viral,
goes home. No show tonight.

2 May
And there will be no show today. Last night Anna had
worsened, gone back to hospital. They gave her a lumber
puncture and diagnosed viral meningitis. Which apparently
sounds worse than it is – could be a week off but there is no
antibiotic only painkillers and rest. After talking to her we
decided to collect Owen and take the train out to Beverley and
Rye. Glorious sunny day. Owen swam and boated, we sat and
read before an early supper at Beverley’s club.

3 May
Home to news that Lynn Redgrave has died. This is like
something Greek. That sweet and brilliant woman.

6 May
11.10 Car to Cipriani 42nd Street.
Women Who Care lunch.
Women who care between shopping, lunch and face lifts.
No, but really in spite of other distractions.
Back home and the TV tells us nothing conclusive in the
UK except a hung parliament and Gordon lost. For once the
polls are right & for once the US is fascinated.

16 May
CREDITORS LAST PERFORMANCE.
3pm Final performance NY.
Truly, one of the finest performances they gave, and some of
the best, freest acting I’ve seen, anywhere. It seemed as if the
entire audience was on its feet.

7 June
John Lewis – the Great Fridge Saga continues. And as of today,
has no solution. The computer and a tape measure tomorrow.

10 June
Finally bought a fridge. 10 days’ delivery.

22 June
SONG OF LUNCH.
3pm Niall [MacCormick, director], Christopher [Reid,
writer], Emma.
 Trying to find some calm, unadulterated waters amid Em’s
whirlpools of opinions. So talented – so controlling, so
vulnerable, so closed. Not curious.

27 June
Learning lines for the coming big test.

28 June
A long, long day – fingers crossed in the memory department
(metaphor that seems somehow spot on). Emma never falters –
always present, always in charge. Later in the day she says she
went to her trailer and cried.

30 June
And now the tougher stuff – slow-motion cranking on the
narrative. Legs and back ache from sitting at the table for so
many hours and with such undiluted concentration. Well, not
undiluted. Somewhere in these two days laughter creeps in
endlessly. Has to with Ms T. particularly when I am on brain
freeze and she prompts me from ventriloquist-perfect mouth.
‘Put your hand out.’ ‘The other one.’

8 July
SONG OF LUNCH – FIN.
6.55 pick-up.
Hands, eyes, wine, food details with Em. Then more of the
same on me. Before the thank-yous and goodbyes as they swing
on to flashback 1989.
4pm Finish. Sweet speech and a bottle (magnum) of
Bollinger ’99 from Pier [Wilkie, producer] who could hand out
some lessons to HP personnel.

12 July
ITALY.
CAMPAGNATICO.
14 July
6am swim.
The air and the water are precisely the same temperature and
one of the joys of this pool and this garden is that you can swim
naked. You, the air, the waking sun and the water.

16 July
VOLTERRA.
4 → San Gimignano – And no need – ever – to go again.
No life just tourist traps and depressed faces.
5ish Volterra. Sandra finds us at the hotel and takes us into
the town for a mini Volterra tour.

17 July
VOLTERRA.
To work through what I will do and when. And to get the
text of the Dante poem for tomorrow.
10pm in the shadow of the amphitheatre.
Reading ‘All the world’s a stage’ (a miracle no broken ankles
walking down the steps in the dark – Francesca in heels – to
get to the stage) then, as far as I could tell, Simone did his
favourite soliloquies with Francesca as linkperson.

28 July
A leak, a puddle, a smell.

29 July
9 Guido, the plumber . . .
But first, the 7am cup of tea – remembering instructions not
to empty the sink – and my final piece of reading before I pick
up, open and slide into the Borkman (I have read, digested and
responded to a pile of paper maybe inches high on this trip, an
achievement) is Eugenia Citkowitz’s book of stories. And this is
real writing. Every word carved precisely from what? – ether –
for its sharpness and texture. And the stories sly, bold and
seductive.

30 July
THE STORM NEXT DAY.
7am Sitting on one of the dry chairs, inside, in the doorway,
because there’s no electricity. Anywhere in the village. A big
pile of sopping towels waiting for the washing machine
upstairs, exhausted candles everywhere, the contents of the
fridge staring at the kitchen from the open door, knowing their
hours are numbered. The calm after the storm.
From 7–11pm it raged, skipped, tarantella’d, deluged.
Magnificent and inventive and, literally, electrifying. Actually
de-electrifying. For split seconds every twenty seconds night
was day. We were merely its abject slaves, trying to stop the
house being flooded. Now, a cup of tea – early morning light
and the pigeons lining up on the roof tiles, dumb as ever. They
probably slept through the whole thing.

31 July
The brain – in LA (ish), some gala thing, actors dressed up-
down – like in the audience etc. It’s a dream. Opening number
(after I have gone to a seat, following Ruby, found it’s not
mine, walked to the back, declined a young red-headed girl’s
pick-up on the way, sat down). Large numbers of the audience
are on their feet hollering and dancing. I just watch. A group
of mostly overweight women – all in blue satin – get upset
with me because I won’t dance. I beat a retreat outside, where a
crowd of paparazzi are on the hunt. Hand up to my face, I push
through. One of them gets very aggressive but in a creative
way. I stop and aggressively give him a photograph. The others
walk off, furious. The End.

1 August
PISA → LONDON.
4 August
We make the hideous discovery of the damp patches and
bulging floorboard in the bathroom lobby. Rising damp?
Cracked pipe? Is there no end to this?

7 August
1.45 car to Leavesden for the HP wrap party.
Almost every expense spared – at least in the food
department. At 2.30pm little was left, anyway. We went on the
Simulator and the Twister. (Bloody painful.)

9 August
Watching Song of Lunch. Difficult, uneasy-making stuff. Quality
of the film aside, it is so hard to look at yourself with any
objectivity.

10 August
The seeming diagnosis of cracked pipe means the gentle hum
of dehumidifier collecting water from where the pipe had
spewed forth for God knows how long.

17 August
To work with Kristin Linklater [voice coach]. And in 1½ hours
she gives me instant re-education. Just need to hang on to a
repeatable structure, and not generalise. The sense of sigh in,
sigh out for breath is great plus feeling sound in the back of the
neck and up over the tongue. But a scary blockage in the left
ear.

23 August
10am Abbey Theatre, Dublin.
Day One – John Gabriel Borkman.
First person I see in the rehearsal room is Joan Bergin –
literally just off a plane from the Emmys. She won. Her third.
 Somewhere after James’s talk, we read it. The mountain
emerges from the mist somewhat.
Tom Pye shows the set – beautiful, cold, transparent. We’re
all in a deep freeze. Joan’s costumes are beautiful and this is just
the beginning of the detail, passion & care.

24 August
Day Two and the onion shows its many layers. The play starts
to seem like Beckett’s inspiration, yesterday’s costumes seem
over-elaborate, some of Frank’s dialogue a little clunky, I’m
questioning the accents, Fi has positioned herself for extra
props – the play will tell us what to do and James seems quietly
to spot everything.
Early home. No alcohol. Find healthier food will be the
mantra. M&S beckons.

29 August
After a week of no alcohol last night’s ever-pouring bottle hits
like a truck this morning.

30 August
Walking across the footbridge (uneven steps) and looking
upwards. Next thing on the ground – hard and sudden. And
the shock of it stays with me all day. Not to mention the grazed
hand and the holes in the right knee of my (irreplaceable)
trousers. All day I can feel the thud, the surprise and the
vulnerability that I guess comes as you leave way behind the
knocks and scrapes of a child.

1 September
A day off.
They’re doing the first act – Lindsay’s nervous. Fi has asked
for ‘stuff ’ from their childhood to be in the room . . .
Lindsay called after rehearsals to say that the room looked
like something out of Steptoe and Son but that Fi really does
want to engage so all may be well.

5 September
7.30 Seamus Heaney. The Abbey.
Wonderful work, wonderfully read. Brian Friel there too and
we gathered around him in the bar. He says he isn’t writing any
more. I said – ‘Write me something, ten minutes will do.’ The
short time demand appeared to whet an appetite.

6 September
All day a battle with the boring as fuck hearing thing. Every
low-level hum – the air-conditioning, the boiler, the railway,
the traffic – is like constant rumbling, reverberation.
Underwater.
Rehearse . . . A lot of busking going on; no real work
happening. A voice, an attitude has been found and posted.
Lindsay, of course, the other side of the coin – questing and
honest.
Conversation with Fi in the bar last night still reverberates
like a drum, too. And underwater will become a distinct
possibility.

8 September
Car to Beacon Hospital [Dublin].
Supposedly for an MRI – no knowledge at the desk, then a
young South African woman finds me and takes me for an
audiology test (L ear now on a par with R), then we go back
down the stairs and I have the MRI (head & neck inside the
machine – bang bang bang, clack clack). Back to the rehearsal
room by 1.
pm Watching – because there is no participating – Fi in full
appallingly arbitrary flight. We worked on into the evening to
no effect except a reclaiming of space by me with an
‘improvisation’ designed to prove a point.
23 September
Act 3.
And there is a different Gunhild8 in the room – stiller, more
involved. A little bit – ‘Do you want me to do nothing? Here it
is.’ – but it’s a beginning . . .

27 September
2pm. Rehearse.
Act 2. The lines all now inhabiting different parts of the
body. Part of the process, I suppose.
6 Act 2 run-through.
There is, it now has to be said, so little energy coming from
James’s chair that L. & F. are in some kind of panic. It is making
L. disappear inwards and F. start fighting outwards.

28 September
10 Meandering, angsting journey through 3 & 4 and now the
full James bottomless pit of no response becomes clear. He
generates endless discussion – endless – but does not,
ultimately, direct.

29 September
10 Stagger-through.
Maybe an important day . . .
The run-through had some horrors and flashes of what it all
might be.
It prompted a gloves-off discussion about the need for James
to police, direct. And for Lindsay to step out of the shadow that
Fi casts everywhere by her ‘energy’ (‘I pile it on when I think
nothing is happening.’), her arbitrary energy, her zero need of
another actor all mixed up with her brilliance – in flashes.
Tomorrow is definitely another day and I do feel cleansed by
not editing what I said. It may or may not have fall-out. Too
late now. And anyway – we’re supposed to be grown-ups.

1 October
10.30 Run-through.
The beginnings of a cold for me. Nerves piling up.
Impossible to allay. Lines disappearing from view for all of us.
Not clear which bits work, which don’t – James seems blithe in
the face of it.
Back at Spencer Dock at 7pm with L. & F. – martinis, red
wine and honesty. A plan and onward.

4 October
. . . a visit to the doctor, since, on waking, everything in my
body wished to remain in bed – sinus infection no. 83, more
antibiotics, nose spray, nosedrops. What can they do?

6 October
Preview one.
We did it, Ella, we did it.

8 October
1.30 rehearse.
7.30 The show – and all sorts of staging pluses, but oh –
these terrifying days. From all of us.

9 October
4pm Rehearse/7.30 The show.
At which I thought we reached a kind of understanding
about Act 3. Out the window by the evening – we were in a
Whitehall farce.
2am Back in the apartment with Lindsay & Hilton.
Only one topic of conversation possible, really.

12 October
7.30 The show.
We’re all fighting tiredness, really. Act 3 – Fi is riffing. One
does not so much act with her as against her. In life – a glorious,
generous, open, hilarious force. In art – a nightmare.

13 October
7.30 The press night.
Which, as they say, went as well as could possibly be
expected.

15 October
. . . James creeps round the door sidelong, with sidelong smile.
Clearly a mixed press reception and reading between the lines
and from the silence and absence (apart from Joan B., bless her)
the nagging is aimed in my direction. Now I’m feeling like the
fall-guy. Let’s hope this feeling fades.

18 October
Rima went home . . .
6ish and how will this fadge?
F. comes into my dressing room – can we meet tomorrow? –
we need another director – this is not BAM9 worthy – I may
have to leave . . . There is – as usual – no discourse, only a
monologue and the performance only compounds fears.

20 October
3 Lindsay. Some good moves forward. The bravest soul – with
a cold.
7.30 The show and Act 3 continues to step into itself. But
OH, the absence of a director . . . at this point – any director.

26 October
7.30 Act 3 – a nightmare.
 After the show – James full of ‘Marvellous and the set will
work in NY’ . . . OhmiGod.

27 October
12 James, The Bar. Fiach’s10 office. James looked like a
wounded animal – but then SO ARE WE. I let him have it on
the set front. He will (of course) be stubborn.

28 October
Fi didn’t show up until 4, so no time for anything except
(whispered) notes. During the show – a good word considering
an audience hell-bent on laughs. There were guffaws and titters
on any old line and they thought the play was over on ‘Come
on . . .’ We discovered some new lows in coping.
In the bar, afterwards, rage boiled over and in the face of the
Sphinx smile too much – probably – truth. Or not enough.
Could be a Waterloo.

30 October
2.30 Act 3 – a joke (1).
7.30 Act 3 – a joke (2).
Somewhere in here – for diary sake – the potential scenario
is – L. won’t rehearse with one actress while playing with
another . . . Could this be the great malicious victory . . .

31 October
7 Town Bar & Grill.
Fiach, Lindsay, Fi and I. Hanging on to my hat here – could
have become very nasty. The waves crashing backwards and
forwards, directors’ names are discarded etc., etc., etc. – all with
the elephant in the room which I raised/pointed at when L. &
I got home – Fi wants to go. Let her.

2 November
6 Dressing room and Fi ‘wants to talk in the bar’. She is grey of
face.
7.30 The show – if I can do it with this tight band around
my head, I can do it anywhere.
10.15 Fi – the schizoid – trying to stay the innocent party,
wanting it to be anything other than her decision. We are
having none of it. ‘Fi – you have to go, and tell Fiach
tomorrow.’

3 November
7.30 The show and she’s off the rails. And in a way, so am I.
Dizzy (literally) with it.

4 November
5.30 Company meeting. Of course, Fi arrives last and says
nothing. I show her my groundplan sketches. Immediately, she
has plans for sweeping her own path on stage . . . At the
interval she tells Lindsay that ‘Hollywood has been on the
phone.’ The circus goes on.

11 November
11am rehearse.
Fi wants Gunhild to be loved by JGB. I can’t comment,
except to quote the text. We argy-bargy away, no one strong
enough to call her on it. THE MARRIAGE IS OVER – IT’S
A BLACK, BLACK SITUATION AND WE MOVE ON
FROM THERE . . . On 3 or 4 (?) hours’ sleep I don’t have
the will but also will not cave in to generalisations.
7.30 The show. And how do I do this? Somehow we make it
to the end.
Rima has arrived.

16 November
7.30 The show.
 Somewhat fuelled by anger at being told about line-endings
and complaints at the box office. It would help not to start the
play at the back of the stage and then play much of Act 2 facing
upstage or into a corner. And how helpful it might be to start
such a conversation on a positive note. Too much to ask?

20 November
2pm matinée.
The beginning of these last days is always like staring at some
impossible slope. We will never climb it – the summit will
never arrive. Minute by minute, line by line, it does.
7.30 Last (Abbey) show.
The sense of where this will go (and the places it may never
visit) becomes greater as the run ends. Lindsay and I are on the
mountain.
10ish The Bar.
Massive sense of relief, release and real achievement.
Whatever it is we ultimately did – we did it. Fully,
committedly.

22 November
London.
Not a foot outside the front door all day.
Somewhere in there, a phone call with Juliet who seems a
bit beaten and negative – her life is all about coping – no
Hugh11 (Canada), the demands of the children, no roles for
women over 50, re-living her nightmare with F.S. . . . This is
sad from someone who used to explode with laughter. The
shock (as ever, as so often) is the lack of any real interest in
other people (in the same profession).

23 November
55 Wimpole Street. Doctor’s laboratory. Blood test and reading
many magazines, including Vogue’s info that Emma Watson was
given a vintage Rolex ‘by her producers’ . . .

3 December
To New York.

6 December
Russell Brand unwatchable on Jay Leno. The self styling has
gone and now it’s a man in search of the rest of his career –
shorter hair, a sweater and a tie. And he’s being adorably
eccentric rather than crazed.

10 December
A Little Chaos.
9.30 The actors start to arrive.
10.15 Kate Winslet arrives. Intimate and strange – to have
known her at 19 and watched her become 35.
10.30 A Little Chaos. Its first reading.
1pm Barbuto.
Kate, Gail [Egan, producer], Andrea [Calderwood,
producer], Alison [Deegan, screenwriter], Rima & me. Still
difficult to read Kate. She seems to be moving forwards and
backwards at the same time.

19 December
Montego Bay, Jamaica.
Good old American Airlines.
1½ hours late taking off (we have a connecting flight), no
magazines in rack, only one earpiece working, a meal that
defied analysis . . . hell for leather dash at Miami. Which was
delayed. No flight attendant. She was on our flight from
NY . . . Got to Montego Bay. Found driver. Got to Round
Hill [Hotel]. White balustrades, white curtains, white sheets,
colonial furniture. Hot tub. Glass of rum in the moonlight.
20 December
A day of nothingness, oblivion. Interspersed with memories of
the script on the plane – Extremaduran Portraits – and reading
the mostly excellent script of Midnight’s Children. The part,
however, is over before it’s started.

25 December
12 o’clock to the beach to wait for the 1pm arrival, by boat, of
Santa – he’s black with a big white beard and is heard saying (in
deep Jamaican) ‘Boy, it’s hot in your country.’
To the house to open presents.
8 Dinner. Everything available except roast potatoes, brussels
sprouts, Christmas pudding and a third candle to see what we
were eating.

28 December
To Miami → New York.
Down to the office to check out and think deep thoughts
about the bill.
10am To the airport. Where we find that the 5.25 becomes
the 6.25, becomes the 7.10, becomes the plane without a PA so
cannot be announced, becomes the plane whose crew have
now (8.30 and counting) been working too long and have to
be replaced (9.05) (9.30) (9.55). To get to JFK, however,
seemed like an achievement. It was swiftly (well, excruciatingly
slowly) crushed by the 3½ hours we had to wait for our
luggage. Staggered home from the siege at 4.30am. The flat
was of a freezingness forgotten since childhood.

31 December
Dame Harriet Walter for goodness’ sake!
1
Nagini, a long, green female snake; in Harry Potter she is Voldemort’s pet.
2
Must You Go? My Life with Harold Pinter
3
Natasha Richardson
4
American actor Sierra Boggess (1982–) and English actor Liz Robertson (1954–)
5
British chef (1939–2010)
6
A one-man play by Samuel Beckett
7
English actor Corin Redgrave (1939–2010)
8
Played by Fiona Shaw
9
Brooklyn Academy of Music
10
Fiach Mac Conghail (1964–), Director of the Abbey Theatre 2005–2016
11
Hugh Brody, Juliet Stevenson’s husband
 2011
NEW YORK – JOHN GABRIEL BORKMAN – ANTI-
CUTS MARCH – OLLY DRIVER, PERSONAL
TRAINER – THE KILLING – TOM COURTENAY –
GAMBIT – CAMERON DIAZ – MIRIAM KARLIN –
HARRY POTTER 7 PT 2 – ANNA MASSEY –
CAMPAGNATICO – NEW YORK – SEMINAR

1 January
New York again for New Year’s Day.

6 January
BAM. Day One. The tech begins . . . and, ultimately, it was a
happy day. The body was in massive rebellion as the head tried
to keep pace and direct. Had to lie down a couple of times, but
as F., L. and I agreed in Lyon later on (whisky sours helping)
the H1 is such a magical space that you can’t help feeling lifted,
expanded and inspired by it. The play and its language start to
come through.
‘We have a play,’ says F.

7 January
9.30 at BAM. Tech continues with Act 4.
2pm we got a dress rehearsal which seemed to go well.
Howard Davies [director] was happy – we were free and
inventive.
7.30 First preview.
Working within and around complete exhaustion, and I
forgot to drink a load of water. Somehow (as ever with this) we
made it to the end.

8 January
Show preview 2.
Fighting across some creeping infection. Somewhere,
somehow, some real discoveries were made and a very good
show. Something special is happening here.

10 January
Late pm mind-numbing offer from Doug McGrath2 that makes
me wonder what agents are for . . .

14 January
7.30 Show.
A tough one in the scheme of things. Interestingly, not a
glimpse of BAM staff . . . You’re on your own day of
opprobrium in NY.
10.15 Out of the theatre and into a car and home, and
watching Critics’ Choice Awards – it becomes embarrassing
watching the first of many award shows for actors. We are free
TV with ads, trading on an embarrassingly repetitive and needy
emptiness. No wonder Somewhere3 is ignored.

18 January
7.30 Show.
2 phones go off – first-scene offender apparently even said
sorry. Second scene – front row complete with bag
rummaging.

19 January
7.30 Show.
Feeling as if the virus from hell might descend. Which it did
in terms of an audience cougher and fidgeters. Oh God, this
endless battle with oneself.

20 January
7.30 Show.
 Skittish audience wanting to laugh at almost anything.
Before the show mentions of complaints about audibility had
been passed on. Felt like I shouted the evening.
10.15 Caffe e Vino.
People have the faces of those who have read a bad review.

23 January
3pm Show.
Bizarrely, there begins to be a space in my head – when the
gremlins and fears are pushed away – that might enjoy doing
this play. You have to hide the beast, not let it possess you.

25 January
1.30 Brenda Currin4 brings her Eudora Welty piece to our
kitchen. She is the most wonderful actress but this show needs
a physical identity. Made a few suggestions – basic but
fundamental.
7.30 Show.
Very vocal audience, not to say skittish (cries of Snape . . .).

27 January
Walked home [from a lunch at the Savoy] through the
snowdrifts, making it, stomach upset in full command, only just
in time.
7.30 Show – Ginger tea, ice packs, water all competing to
calm an incipient storm.
Somehow the show achieves some power and afterwards
Adam Isaacs [talent agent] is full of it all. It’s not until later that
I realise my own agent has managed to say almost nothing
about my work. What is that all about?

2 February
7.30 Show.
 Anticipation or hindsight – no one should have to do a play
like this twice in one day. Voice, body & spirit take a
pummelling, and it vacuums up brain (memory) & technique
(v. tired). It all becomes about will.

4 February
7.30 Show.
Still battling a virus that threatens.
10.30 Caffe e Vino.
Kristin Milward and friends. Beyond memorable given that a
close friend said nothing until I was leaving.

6 February
3pm Show. The last one, and a fine one.
7.30 Blue Ribbon Bakery. Hmm. Not where I would have
chosen [for wrap party], but it served, I guess. Everybody very
hug-and-goodbye. Fi sits down and states her innocence . . .

7 February
7pm BAFTA interview.
Not telling you what props I stole or what Jo Rowling said
to me.

8 February
7 Car to BAM.
2 screenings of Die Hard. Introduce one, Q&A at the other.
Who knew? Both of them packed and cheering, adoring
audiences.

26 February
How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.
Their first preview, and fantastically assured it was. Dan
[Radcliffe] sings and dances like a veteran. Still switches off
when not speaking and although the dancing is ace, the
walking hasn’t been choreographed so it’s the Dan awkward
shuffle. Show him and he’ll do it immediately.

2 March
1am The Box.
One of the acts was a woman farting into a microphone on
musical cue. Naked of course.

8 March
11.45 Tisch School.
Fine except for the HP obsessed question, and the boy who
asked me what I was reading. ‘You mean novels?’ ‘Yes.’
Nothing came to mind. I read around things all the time. Or
scripts. Or avoid reading it seems.
Pick up suit from the ace tailors on 14th Street and then
home for the packing slow marathon.
Sitting next to me on the plane is Roger Waters [of Pink
Floyd] – nice, chatty, smart.
pm The usual – sorting, opening, discarding, unpacking,
replacing, heaving, rehanging . . .

14 March
The start of domestic clear-out. Is it beautiful? Is it useful? Is
there any object which is faintly depressing? Big Victorian
rooms demand a lot of stuff.

18 March
11.10/11.30 Dr Reid.
Blood tests and then a run-through of the head to toe
(literally) complaints.

26 March
Lindsay comes to collect us – car to Piccadilly Circus for the
anti-cuts march. Straight to EAT for coffee and a sandwich
before wandering down to Trafalgar Square and long wait for
the Equity banner. At Park Lane the sight of the Dorchester
proved too much. Lindsay, Haydn [Gwynne] & us went in and
had tea, sandwiches (no crusts) and cakes like good socialists
everywhere might do at 4pm.

28 March
Neil Walker at the Lister Hospital – checking moles, blemishes,
redness, flaking – the topography of my complaining skin. As
ever no real answers – creams, steroids – worse before it gets
better. He has great skin, I notice, so . . .

31 March
Cooked coq au vin while Rima at governing body meeting
and damned fine it was too. Not so much dense as fleeting in
the flavour department – but springlike.

6 April
10.30 John Gaynor.
A blood pressure test, a stethoscope and a trot round
showbiz.

8 April
8 Olly Driver – THE TRAINER.
Tough, as they say, but fair. And all day I could feel things
happening – question marks all over the body.

11 April
8 Olly Driver.
Punishing but not killing, and I can feel the benefit through
the day – the body wakes up, glad to be involved.

14 April
Watching more of The Killing. My mind wanders watching it
[so] that inevitably I lose the plot. Rima, of course, glued.
18 April
8 Olly Driver
and he’s pushing now . . .
3.30 Read through of Untitled – Gambit.
Which was many things. Cameron Diaz is the business –
open and funny. Colin [Firth] as inclusive and curious as ever.
The script? It should never suffer a table read, because it is all
about the reaction shot, the cut and the homage to a certain
kind of film. Sometimes it is funny, often it is not – just sounds
as if it wants to be. Michael [Hoffman, director] is v. open to
change and the work starts here.
7 Olly Driver.
OMG. Not funny after a late night that contained some
good wine – albeit spilt (as usual) during story-telling. But he
pushes me through it. This couldn’t happen without someone
at my door.

20 April
Michael very unsure about things. Hesitant to OK something
in case something else is righter – a bit unsettling.
Tom C. comes in to chat – about Philip Larkin, Albert
Finney, his old dog, his new dog, anathema towards a certain
actress (long discussion). He’s a 74-year-old kid in short
trousers and he’s Tom Courtenay, big star from my growing up
years.
Watched a bio film about Cameron [Diaz]. V. useful.
Working-class girl catapulted into modelling then film and
famous boyfriends. It all seems to have taken a minute but it
has been going on for 20 years.

23 April
pm The Killing. Brilliant, shaming (for UK television) stuff.

24 April
Watch another episode of The Killing.
So brilliantly acted by everyone, the smallest parts perfectly
inhabited.
Only 6 more [episodes] to go . . .

29 April
Olly Driver – getting tougher.
The Royal Wedding5 invaded the house while Cornelia
hoovered and Keith B. cleaned all the windows, we sparkled
retrospectively. It is, however, an interesting kind of theatre.
Casting crucial, sets a given, allowing for everything from
idiotic to inspired. Script? Open to interpretation and history’s
verdict.

30 April
Go through the last draft of A Little Chaos w. Alison.
2 Waitrose.
pm Finish The Killing.
The plot often escaped me, but the production values never
did and the acting was sensational throughout. Brilliant.

2 May
Mim Karlin. Lunch at Denville Hall.6
A play could be written – or an episode of Midsomer Murders
we all decided . . . actors but still lost, old faces staring from
wheelchairs. Mim conducts her battle as ever but now it’s
against herself as she prays for Switzerland and an end to all the
pain. Who can blame her? Brian? Barry? Over 90 but perfectly
attired – shirt, tie, jacket, serves coffee to the gathered clan –
‘Thank you, waiter,’ I said. ‘Butler,’ he snapped – smiling.
Dinah Sheridan7 holds a camera. Is she looking for evidence of
something going on?

7 May
8 Dinner at our house.
Kath Viner, Ed Miliband & Justine [his wife], Miranda
R[ichardson], Henrietta G., Ronan Bennett8 & [his wife]
Georgina, Rahila and friend Mary.
As we closed the door having cleaned up – mostly – at 2am-
ish we said with one voice ‘nightmare’.
The food, wonderful as it was, was on the table at 9.30 and
10.30, embarrassingly late but it was Pakistan-time for Rahila
and she was the ultimate perfectionist in spicing. Ed M. was
patient, considering he was to be on Andrew Marr in the
morning. I was so tired and stressed I could hardly converse.

9 May
Gambit. Day One. Night Shoot.
3.30 Pick-up Tyringham Hall, Newport Pagnall.
And the nightmare (sadly not sleep) of night shoots.
Creeping exhaustion, combined with no time to eat and
forgetting to drink water, which means words turn to mush
and taste and judgement fly across the fields of Tyringham.
Fall into bed (Yellow Peril Room) at 5.30am.

10 May
Awake at 10.40.
12ish Sitting around the breakfast table with Colin,
Cameron, Mike L[obell, producer], Michael H., other
producers. Argentina, music, film, train, dialect issues. Happy
to pick at food, drink coffee and chat.
pm Karaoke night which will be rendered unforgettable by
the slamming . . . of my left thumb in the car door. A long
time since I have felt that kind of pain. Faint-making pain.
Now for the black thumb, I presume.
Michael H. has that most idiosyncratic mix of
decisive/indecisive all at once. A bit unnerving. Somewhere in
there, he knows what he wants.
11 May
Yep. Black nail. Throbbing thumb. Reinvent method of doing
up trouser buttons.

15 May
Stay at home day. Steal a couple of lines from Ruby for
tomorrow’s scene.

16 May
5.50am pick-up. But having gone to bed at 11.30 and awake
again at 2.30, failing to sleep again – it was up at 5am for one
of the toughest days of the shoot. A hillside outside Henley –
Tuscany in England all around – me and a bunch of guys in
gun-toting outfits, 2 pages of text and much falling over,
getting up, dirt in the face, hitting muddy marks, shouting
insanely . . . Finished at around 6pm. Could think only of hot
bath. In pain from ankles to eyelids.

24 May
4.20 pick-up . . . am, that is.
Tiredness and lack of food kick in, especially in a basement
with no clue as to the time of day at any point. It came as a
surprise to see people having lunch in cafés on my way back to
the trailer. It was 3.30pm . . .

25 May
6am Wake up to wave Rima off to Italy.
Back to bed until 10.
I had been vaguely looking forward to these auctioneer
scenes. Then the old decisive/indecisive gremlins crept in via
M.H. – with M.L. breathing down his neck. Net result – a
good idea gets diluted into non-energy and the bland soft
option has to be shot. Just in case.

27 May
Two hospice visits – no other way of doing it, so do it.
3pm Anna [Massey] – St Charles.
Pale, calm and beautiful – and just staring. Looking for a
reason, sudden shafts of controversy, as ever. ‘I don’t think M. is
a very nice person.’ (I had thought he was a hero of hers.) But
loving, too.
5pm Mim – St John & St Elizabeth.
Perfectly made up (someone under orders), ready for all-
comers. Ready to talk & laugh though many drugs keep her
eyes half-closed. Don’t dare to leave too soon, though.

31 May
6am pick-up.
Long scene on the sofa in Sh’s9 office. Me, Cameron,
Colin . . . Some shaky knowledge of the lines and my close-ups
arrive late pm . . . Poor, defensive Michael on receiving end.
How can I curb this ability to distance and intimidate? It is not
helpful but it enforces a bit of a process. As in ‘Could we just
read the scene?’ First thing? – when it was all about the
shot . . .

2 June
6am pick-up.
No clothes on day.
Well – flesh-coloured knickers on. And it’s like they say, after
a while you just don’t notice. Except in this case, I’m the only
one half (7/8th then) naked. It was what it was, but thank you,
Olly Driver – even with the absence over the last week, the
grind paid off.

3 June
Mim Karlin has died. Talk about a noble spirit. She never made
it to Dignitas, but she had the dignity part in spades.
Unforgettable times with her celebratory, unsentimental and
passionate heart.

6 June
Talk to Philip Hedley about Mim’s funeral next week.
Something says up the status – make sure someone is there
from the RSC and Malcolm10 from Equity. Actors can do their
stuff at the memorial.

8 June
Back to Ealing Studios.
Cameron proves yet again what a gifted comedian she is:
innate pace and precision. And truthful with it.

9 June
Reading Just Kids and Patti Smith writes about her and
Mapplethorpe taking it in turns to go into the Whitney
(couldn’t afford 2 tickets) and Robert saying ‘One day we’ll
have our work in there.’ That’s where I met him. At his own
retrospective . . .

11 June
Watching a bit more of Monster’s Ball and Lady Gaga announces
her Tisch School ancestry. Now I know that she is to be taken
seriously. Because she trained. Has a process.

12 June
7.30 Stanley Tucci and Felicity [Blunt, his partner].
Glad to see that someone else can have a bit of a kitchen
panic. ‘Not enough potatoes, make some polenta.’

14 June
Mim Karlin.
10 Car to collect Thelma and then on to Golders Green
Crematorium where Philip H., God bless him, is in full
control. DO NOT LET ANYONE IN WHO ISN’T DOING
SOMETHING. He kept that up until 11.28 when I thought
there must be unrest outside. But then the event started, at
which point, after ‘Fear no more’ from me, Philip spoke for 20
minutes . . . Somehow we made it to the end (Helena K.,
followed by Harriet and Christina Rossetti), no thanks to Jan
S.11 and Richard Digby Day,12 who also wittered on for many
minutes (interspersed by some real wit from Maureen Lipman
and Mim’s own letters to the Guardian).

25 June
Spoke briefly to Anna and David Huggins.13 He thought she
might have sounded a bit confused, thinking it was Uri. I
didn’t think so – but David said she is sleeping 90% of the time
now, and pain free. She will, they think, just stop breathing.
Impossible to make sense of most of the day. I put Glastonbury
on the TV. Music as ever takes you elsewhere. Rumer, Elbow,
Coldplay. Brits rule.

27 June
8.30 Olly Driver.
And an absolutely killing session. Too late last night . . .

3 July
Men’s final Nadal v Djokovic.
Unforgettable experience. Unforgettable day of contrasts.
On the balcony of the main entrance and then in to lunch at
the Duchess of Gloucester’s table. Wrong man [Djokovic] – all
triumph and ego – won but Bjorn Borg came over and asked
for a photograph. ‘Are you kidding?’ I spluttered. John Major
said ‘You have given us so much enjoyment.’ ‘I wish I could say
the same of you’, was the unstoppable reply. He had the grace
to laugh.
Home. Message from Uri – one in Russian – Anna has died.

4 July
Kensington Town Hall. Rima becomes an alderman and makes
a fire-brand speech that makes me very proud of her.
Spoke to David Huggins. Anna’s wish was for me to speak
about her at her funeral. Now we find a day. Hard for Uri who
as a Russian Jew wants it to be soon.

7 July
HP 7 Part 2.
It all ends. Part 1.
To Trafalgar Square – which takes an hour.
Once there, red carpets everywhere. A screen, a platform, an
interviewer and thousands screaming and singing ‘Snape,
Snape, Severus Snape . . .’ The carpet snakes into Leicester
Square for the film at 8pm. I found it unsettling to watch – it
has to change horses midstream to tell the Snape story and the
camera loses concentration. Audience, however, very happy.
Billingsgate later. People still happy, cannot find (or hear)
anyone . . .

8 July
12.30 Collect Uri and take him to Angelus for lunch. This
complex man, lost without Anna, talking of cremation
removing the possibility of resurrection; always the right-wing
perspective; loving & interested in all things, otherwise.

13 July
Two days on scene 125.
Tiredness & tetchiness and an occasional acid tongue.
8ish Dinner in the Brasserie with Colin [Firth], Stanley &
Felicity.
This has been a happy team. Plenty to talk about, laugh
about. Colin’s monologues are entertaining and come from an
open heart, and Stanley just loves London and wants to stay.

15 July
Up to finish Anna’s eulogy in the early morning calm of the
dining room.
12.30 West London Crematorium, Kensal Green.
David Hare, waiting outside, says, ‘Well, that’s Anna – either
nothing or Westminster Abbey.’
2pm Anna’s funeral. Calm, ordered, classy. Mozart at the
beginning, then a prayer, me, Penny Wilton, the priest,
Schubert. I think I spoke for about 30 mins. I think it was fine,
in Anna’s terms.

20 July
Gambit. Last day.
The back of the Rolls-Royce all day.
Cameron strikes an amazing balance (which keeps director
and producer at bay) of certainty, assurance and seeming
control whilst not really having done the work, and given the
amount of transatlantic travel she’s accomplished in recent
weeks, it is staggering that she has any idea of her lines. Either
way, there is no challenge and I even got notes in the face of no
discernible flow in our scenes. This, I guess, is stardom and
where the money is/has gone.

27 July
Uri the inimitable is going to Palermo tomorrow and to San
Diego in the middle of August (while we are in Italy) but still
leaves with no goodbyes. He doesn’t get much of England. The
funeral was tough for him. ‘No open coffin, no last kiss –
cremation. No hope of resurrection.’ And tonight I hear how
confused he was by people laughing (rightly) at the funeral . . .

30 July
9.15 Screening in the courtyard [of Somerset House] of Die
Hard. Thousands of devoted fans all with cushions, blankets,
sleeping bags. Rock star time at the microphone. Unmissable.
Then dinner in Tom’s Kitchen before watching 15 mins in the
Square. Beautiful and yet again you see how masterful the film
is. Every shot helps the story.

1 August
Watching the 2 taped documentaries about [Rupert] Murdoch.
Heroes are Nick Davies,14 Tom Watson,15 Chris Bryant16 and
Alan Rusbridger, I guess, for letting it happen. And boy, is
timing all.

7 August
Campagnatico.

11 August
Emily Young [sculptor] comes over from Batignano for pork
chops and ratatouille and we have a guided tour of her life. I
like her, but not one question about ours??

13 August
A walk around the back of the village – old city walls
scaffolded, slip/slide down the path that brings you out at S.
Maria and up into Piazza Dante for a panini and coffee. Which
Claudio paid for . . .

17 August
7.30 Swim.
8.30 Couple of hours’ walk through the Tuscan hills/villages,
stony paths and trees. Listen to Will Hutton’s rundown on the
Murdoch saga – Jeremy Hunt17 wants [David] Cameron’s job
(I’d chain myself to a few railings). Alan R. is the real hero,
because of his long-term commitment to Nick Davies, etc.,
etc.

20 August
97º.

21 August
100º.
Like stepping out into an oven but they know how to build
these houses. Maybe they watched the pigeons who desert their
wires for the branches of pines during the heat of the day.

3 September
On the plane, finishing Edna’s book of short stories Saints and
Sinners. She paints words, sings them. But, thankfully, gives me
the perfect summing up in the last two lines of the last story
‘Old Wounds’: ‘it was . . . something for which there is no
name, because to name it would be to deprive it of its truth.’
Home at 4.10pm. In and out of shower by 4.30pm and it’s
off to Tom Stoppard’s party in the Physic Garden in Chelsea. A
bomb would have removed most of the British theatre
Establishment. I never moved from a patch of gravel. But fun
and a bit scary. Dinner at Caraffini . . . partly because I hadn’t
got near any food at the party.

13 September
To New York.
Listened to Adele 21. She’s doing what she was born to.
Nathan & Lewis bring me to 321 W.13th. The road was
closed. Now – 4 CONED18 vans, no elevator working. 2
suitcases up 7 floors . . . Where there is no phone, TV or
computer working, and a dribble of brown water coming out
of the tap.

30 September
[Re Seminar]
Boy, do I have to hold my nerve here. 4 actors who for
whatever reason don’t insist on examining the reality of a scene,
2 of them explore the sounds they can make, vocal
idiosyncrasies they can toy with, a director who doesn’t ask
questions, but who is full of sensible suggestions. Sometimes
the nerve-wrackingness of it melts and we achieve something,
so I have to stay open, available, non-judgemental and
trusting . . .

1 October
12.40 Pick-up to rehearse.
More of the same, I don’t get it.

10 October
11 Rehearse.
A real need to know the lines, now. Don’t waste the hours,
mins, days.

11 October
12 Exterminator man shines his torch. Examines mattress (no
bedbugs), takes away samples.

12 October
11 Rehearse. A run. Theresa [Rebeck, playwright] there, and
gone, afterwards. No words of encouragement – boy, is hers this
play. I caught her at the elevator and threw a few grenades into
the mix – ‘It’s our play, now.’

16 October
11 Rehearse.
Feeling tense and resentful at having to do a run later when
there is so much to be bedded in. God, the pressure to present,
to display is appalling.
2pm Run which was chaotic, w. lines disappearing, no
shape, Hamish19 doing wonderful things, Lily [Rabe] still
totally on book, Theresa flipping pages . . . me getting angrier
and angrier. We did it is all that can be said.

20 October
11 Rehearse.
 Hamish finally expresses frustration with some aspects of the
text – rightly – and we deal with it. Why has it taken so long?
The fear factor? Everyone is sealed in by their brilliance.
pm Run the play with some nerve-jangling nips and tucks.
We took 4 mins off the running time – but (for this journal
only) still the self-centred energy, being dazzling on every line,
no idea a lot of the time what is being said, there’s so much how.
And so much talent, pissing into the wind but encouraged and
lauded.

23 October
12.30 Onwards. Tech Day One.
Not enough sleep – Niagara Falls in the pipes – so eventually
the body/brain disconnect kicks in.
Meanwhile – the set looks fine, the costumes look good, the
theatre feels perfect and welcoming, and I start watching myself
and the whole situation. It is impossible to tell where the
others’ heads are at. But maybe it’s all practicalities (we had a
happy enough meal at Joe Allen’s) and the play will
re-emerge . . .

26 October
8pm Public press.
Which I thought was for 50 people – turned out to feel like
a full house and we all braved it through. A lot of supportive
laughter, and we rose to it – Lily doing some of her truest
work. A lot of complicated cobwebs blew away and it’s clearer
where the work will have to be put in.

27 October
8pm First preview.
Very nervy from the entrance round onwards. The usual
battle with my own demons.

28 October
8pm Show.
Still nervy, and when a word is fluffed the entire audience
exits for a few moments.
Back at home all my silly concerns, and even serious ones,
thrown into sharpest relief when Rima drops the bombshell Bo
Rogers20 has died. No one knows why at this point. I used to
stare at him wonderingly; his instant contact with children, his
total lack of judgement, his great heart. Yet again, left staring
into space.

29 October
11am pick-up.
After a night of no real sleep – thanks Reggie downstairs for
the thumping bass until 6am.
10ish Bar Centrale w. Stan [Tucci] & Rima.
Stan, ever waspish and warm by turns, hasn’t much to say
about the show. He felt like an alien.
At home Reggie downstairs is having another deafening
bash. Doesn’t answer the doorbell. No hotels available. Take
pill. Earplugs in. And hope.

31 October
9am Blood test.
The easiest, quickest and most painless ever.
Before the performance. How do I stop this happening?
Panic attack? Fainting? Sweating? Repeating the lines?
Heaviness in the arms? Hard to breathe? Concentrate? First
part tough, better onwards.
At home – a pair of shoes outside the door. Ralph F. who
stayed happily for supper.

5 November
8pm Show.
 Apart from another dodgy opening it was a (Sam21 says)
gangbuster show. Brain/body battle throughout – the body had
a sleep in the break, thinks it has done its job for the day,
checks out of brain connection, shocked to find itself out there
again.

8 November
1.30 Patrick Pacheco, LA Times.
‘Villain’ and ‘sneer’ popped up in his questions, so hopes are
low for anything groundbreaking.

11 November
8pm Show.
Not sure where this audience came from but they were
nearly out of control.

17 November
Slept on and off till 11. Back to the apartment around 2.22
Feeling rested but still not well – weak legs and headache.
5pm To the theatre.
Barry K[ohn] arrives, stethoscope finds fluid in the left lung
– potential pneumonia. Straight to antibiotics.
Tonight’s show – press night – cancelled. The first time, I
realise, I have ever missed a show. They are citing ‘acute
respiratory infection’. Home, dinner, warmth, TV, bed.

18 November
Letting the antibiotics kick in. It is now, officially, walking
pneumonia.
5pm To the theatre.
Test out the stage. Rehearse Sc 2 with the others. Green
light. Fingers crossed. Prayers.
8pm Show which felt alive and vital, apart from voice
limitations.
19 November
2pm Show which seemed fine but total exhaustion by the end.
8pm Show which seemed an impossibility at 6, 6.30, 7. No
strength, dizzy, somehow we made it to the curtain call.
Problem is, 2 shows have taken it out of me to such an extent
that the body may be going into reverse – antibiotically.

20 November
6.30 Opening night.
Which went as well as these things can ever go.

21 November
NY Times praises and whinges. Find out from Sam later that
everything else is a rave.

22 November
7pm Show.
Felt back to normal-ish. No more hanging on to the
furniture.

27 November
3pm Show – and this audience was at a baseball game.
Applauding lines, entrances, exits and, at one memorable
moment, farting. Or so it seemed to those of us who couldn’t
look at each other.

1 December
2pm pick-up.
Eye doctor who, after many up, down, left, right, top line,
bottom line, red, green?, says – ‘See if it is worse in 10 days and
here’s the retinologist you should see . . .’
7pm Show.
Barry Hopkins23 and friends thought it was 8pm . . .
 In the dressing-room – Anna Wintour, Carolyn (Anna W.’s
charmless daughter and friends), Suzanne Bertish.

4 December
Suddenly health descends . . . just in time for the culmination
of the show weekend . . .
7.30 Show. Felt like a very dumb audience (as per my pre-
show chat with Jeffrey Finn [producer]). Worried that all is
comedy/sitcom/undemanding in the publicity world.

13 December
9 Retinologist. Who puts endless drops in to dilate furious
pupils so that he can shine lights, see round corners and,
eventually, pronounce me free of tears, or detachments. Come
back in 6 weeks. Home via the tailor, and 13th Street (for the
vacuum cleaner).

14 December
7pm Show.
A very quiet house, comparatively. But by the end, God bless
them, they were on their feet.

16 December
8pm Show.
10pm Bar Centrale.
To wait for Robert, Arlene & Chloe Cushman [illustrator]
who elect to have little or nothing to say about Seminar. The
rudeness is mind-blowing sometimes.

19 December
12.45 Dr Benjamin Asher, who prescribes Chinese herbs,
Vitamin D, an injection of something which does indeed have
immediate larynx improvement, and he more or less gets rid of
neck pain.

21 December
7pm Show.
Someone with the most annoying, ever-present and ill-timed
laugh was in the front row. Hard for it not to become all you
think about.

29 December
Can’t think what this diary will read like later on. More or less
from opening night illness rules. A few blessed days of freedom
dotted throughout, but largely a dodgem car situation of
avoidance.

30 December
2pm Show.
Feeling markedly better. Still a slave to the Kleenex box, but
not dizzy. A plus.
8pm Show.
An audience out for a very good time. Literary references
sail out the window – but joyous all the same.

31 December
2pm Show.
Crawling across the stage by the last scene. Tiredness in
every artery, bone and orifice.
1
Harvey Theater, part of Brooklyn School of Music
2
Canadian actor (1935–)
3
Directed by Sofia Coppola
4
American actor (1946–)
5
Prince William and Kate Middleton
6
Care home for people in the entertainment industry
7
English actor (1920–2012)
8
Irish novelist and screenwriter (1956–)
9
Lord Shabandar, A.R.’s character
10
Malcolm Sinclair, then Equity President
11
Jan Sargent, British director and writer
12
British theatre director (1938–)
13
English actor (1959–). Son of Anna Massey.
14
British investigative journalist (1953–)
15
Labour politician (1967–)
16
Labour politician (1962–)
17
Conservative politician (1966–), then Secretary of State for Culture, Olympics,
Media and Sport
18
conEdison, gas company
19
Hamish Linklater, American actor (1976–)
20
Son of Richard and Ruth Rogers
21
Sam Gold, director
22
A.R. had been staying the night in a hotel to get some sleep.
23
American actor (1953–)
 2012
NEW YORK – ELIZABETH PURSEY – SEMINAR –
BROOKE SHIELDS – VANESSA REDGRAVE – KEVIN
KLINE – MERYL STREEP – TORONTO – LEONARD
COHEN – SAVANNAH, CBGB – KEENE McRAE – NEW
YORK – NEW ORLEANS – HURRICANE ISAAC – THE
BUTLER – JANE FONDA – OPRAH WINFREY –
CAMPAGNATICO – DAVID BAILEY – OBAMA RE-
ELECTED – A LITTLE CHAOS – MATTHIAS
SCHOENAERTS – GAMBIT REVIEWED

3 January
11am Call Pat Healy [journalist] re Times Talk on Saturday.
The day is then spent organising and persuading. Since
Francesca is so ill, it seems to me that Rima should really get
on a plane today.

4 January
am Talked to Rima. She made it – Francesca is still with us – a
miracle in itself. Rima, Peter [Rima’s brother] and Melanie
Parker in Oxford together.

7 January
. . . an email from Rima – Francesca has died. Hard to believe
that such an indomitable spirit gave out. I have talked about her
to everyone who would listen. This is a rare individual who has
gone. Pay attention.

10 January
3pm Dr Asher.
More pills, a welcome glutathione injection, and very good
neck massage.
 Then Bloomingdale’s to find (found) a coat.

11 January
7pm Show.
Now it has graduated to nausea. The diary of this
production should be sent to The Lancet . . .

15 January
And find news that Elizabeth Pursey has died. She, along with
Toshka and Michael McCallion, Robert Palmer and June
Kemp are all people who absolutely shaped what I do, what I
am doing, who I am.1

17 January
7pm Show. Patchy, disparate audience – laughter pockets, silent
people, a major cougher. Not feeling well – again – all through
then afterwards. Brooke Shields says ‘Thank you.’ Weirdness in
the air.

21 January
3” of snow fell last night.
8pm Show. Rufus Wainwright was in – and happy.

24 January
A strange and interesting day. Early morning news of only
technical Oscar nominations . . . for HP. Not unexpected, but
focusing (pm) to think of the dullard voters – (1) don’t watch
children’s films (2) don’t watch a film about Freud (3) don’t
watch anything by Shakespeare (4) don’t watch Charlize
Theron playing a depressed woman (5) celebrate (however
brilliant) impersonators . . . Something colder and maybe more
useful gripped my heart today.

26 January
3.45 Dr Asher. Who injects me and takes blood. Let’s figure
this thing out.
 7pm Show. The theatre is too hot, and I’m stressed. We yank
the audience together gradually.

2 February
7pm Show. Terribly aware of Vanessa’s presence in the house
tonight. Afterwards – there’s Jeff Goldblum2 and Janice
Honeyman . . .3
9pm Orso.
Vanessa, as ever, keen to talk about everything except herself.
She wants to unknit the play, her experience of it, the
audience, Theresa. Somewhere in there, she is figuring out
what she didn’t like – and that’s useful at this moment.

3 February
4.15 Dr Asher.
Who is perplexed. Aren’t we all? The roller coaster of
healthy/sick/healthy goes on.

13 February
Do almost nothing day off . . . There is a programme called
Extreme Couponing that is the end of civilisation. People spend
their days cutting coupons from magazines, then go to
supermarkets and buy 70 cans of dog food and 30 bottles of
vitamin water and 80 packs of diapers etc., and store it all at
home. In case. But they got it for next to nothing is the point.

17 February
12.30 Car → BAM.
1.30 Dress rehearsal – Prima Donna (Rufus Wainwright).
Luscious music, very silly libretto. A glorious soprano
crescendo is subtitled ‘I’ll call the police!’ Rufus is there with
his crazy laugh.

23 February
4pm Pick-up for the Charlie Rose show.
5.15 He arrives. And we settle – well, he has a cold – into
the allotted chairs. But he’s amazing – notes forgotten, we just
chat. And it feels like we could go on for hours . . .

26 February
5pm To Maria Aitken and Patrick McGrath. Jack Davenport
joins. They live near Pace University by Brooklyn Bridge –
supper in so-so Italian nearby. Funny, charming, witty,
generous threesome.

29 February
9pm Bar Centrale.
David Grausman [composer], Bob Crowley. Except Bob is a
tart and stayed at another table (‘I double booked’) for 40
minutes. He missed meeting Lou Reed who was with Kim
C[attrall] post Death of a Salesman, and who talks like an actor.

13 March
Dr Cahill leaves a message. No signs of anything. Maybe bye-
bye amoeba. But whacked out still.

15 March
9 Bar C. w. Kevin Kline.
A last minute, and wise, change, because Greg Mosher
[director] and companion Christa joined us and then, all of a
sudden, there was Julia Roberts and husband.

29 March
Major event was Meryl was in. Alarm bells for Lily (fled
upstairs).

1 April
Last show and party. Well, drinks and buffet at the Glass House
Tavern.
 3pm Show. And – miraculously – it was one of our best.
Apart from a few tears on stage . . . And full flowing ones at
the curtain call.

28 April
11.30 Car to South Salem, Westchester, and Felicity & Stanley
Tucci.
7ish Meryl Streep arrives. ‘That’s just where I want to find
you,’ she says. ‘I am making martinis.’ Great dinner of rabbit &
polenta but even greater chat – the world and all its baggage –
that went on at full voltage until 2.30am. Ms S. is truly a force
of nature. Really informed – even if you don’t agree with the
information – and eyes, mind and heart.

7 May
A day without appointments is a good thing, I discover. Must
do more of it.

13 May
TORONTO.
Leaving New York this time it is hard to shake off a dull,
blurred feeling of having been the victim of a quiet but
organised abuse. I daresay, as ever, it will turn into something
muscle-strengthening, but at the moment I feel diminished by
averted eyes and somewhere there are others that are like
gimlets with very tight smiles.

14 May
Leonard Cohen.
Glenn Gould Prize, Massey Hall.
8.30 Leonard Cohen concert.
Feeling extremely alone surrounded by all these musicians,
but an unforgettable experience walking on to that stage, and
that reception. The poems work perfectly and L.C.’s words
were powerful in my head.
16 May
London.

17 May
And an awareness, 8 months away in relatively simple
environments, of the habit of adding, acquiring where there is
no need. The great cull has to begin.

27 May
1pm Ruby et al.
Happy chatty lunch (Ed cooked – Ruby received us in her
pyjamas with hair full of wet dye and silver foil) in the garden.
Sean and Rupert [Everett] like Court commentators or
something. Dashing, indiscreet but relentlessly honest. On the
way out Ruby claims she asked him about his career. ‘Endlessly
clawing my way back to the middle,’ he said.

3 June
The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. And it’s 60 years since the
Coronation. My sister in her Queen’s outfit, winning the fancy
dress competition.

14 June
10 RADA Council.
An outburst – not for the first time – about the amount of
four letter words in the evenings! Can’t quite believe one is
hearing this in 2012, but then we also have a roomful of white
middle class people talking about ‘diversity’ without another
representative (apart from Bonnie Greer) in the room.

19 June
Visa finally arrives . . . Heathrow. Uma Thurman in the lounge
and on the plane. ‘You can deliver, can’t you?’ says the nearly-
due Ms T.

21 June
[Re CBGB]
2.00 → Savannah.

24 June
11 Rehearse.
Boy, will this movie find itself in the edit.
The reading is like the movie – flipping the pages of a
magazine.

26 June
CBGB.
Largely spent in one of these beautiful old Southern homes,
where the crazy owner allowed us to crash a piano down her
beautiful wooden staircase. Managed to avoid the stair-rail, but
gouged a small hole in the opposite wall.

5 July
6.35 pick-up. CBGB full throttle.
Quite something to see these 3 kids ripping into the Police’s
‘Roxanne’.
Keene [McRae] (playing Sting) has a perfect English accent
and comes from Alabama. He stays ‘on accent’ all day for the
benefit of one line.

11 July
A day memorable for continued camera-hogging by J.B.4
Somewhere in the afternoon miking-up went on for a scene he
had no lines in – OK, but how about some consulting with the
3 other actors?

16 July
Finding a calmer centre all day so that Hilly Kristal [A.R.’s
character] just behaves. Leading up to the shot for the end of
this movie. Wonderful work from Joel [David Moore], Julian
[Acosta], Steven [Schub] as the Ramones.
Rima arrives at around 7 → Garibaldi’s at 8.

17 July
The last of the Ramones today, and the birth of Talking Heads.
Both wonderful – and the Talking Heads quite jaw-droppingly
accurate. Which is more than can be said for a couple of the
wigs . . .

26 July
Farewell to shooting in Savannah.

30 July
To New York.

6 August
Olympic rings.
Show jumpers!

22 August
7.30 I Sodi.
Stanley Tucci, Fee [Felicity] & Patti Clarkson5 who is so
overflowing with compliments that I start to wonder if she has
heard about ‘Chaos’ . . . I was too busy enjoying the food to be
concerned.

23 August
7.30 → New Orleans and the Windsor Court Hotel.

24 August
Walking up Royal Street – as if it was meant, a jewellery shop.
A four-stone citrine ring.6
5.15 to the set/trailers.
 On the way there, the word ‘torrential’ doesn’t begin to
cover it. The driver could hardly see the car in front. Filming
can’t start . . .

27 August
Hurricane Isaac arriving tonight. Watching the news all a.m.
Most everybody else has scarpered. We have an inkling to sit it
out. But then comes the warning that the hotel may not cope
if the electricity is cut off, so production books us on a flight to
Atlanta.
7pm (7.35) flight to Atlanta and Loews Hotel and pasta over
the road – we are the only customers. It’s midnight.

30 August
To New York.
Delta outdoes itself in naffness – again. After the $25 for a
small case → Atlanta, it’s now $50 to enter the 1st class lounge.
NOT.

31 August
10.30 David Glasser arrives with a bunch of flowers. The car is
downstairs. We drive, on the most beautiful sunny day, to
Brooklyn and the Courthouse to find David’s father (88 it turns
out, amazingly, later). He is the wisest, warmest, most caring
and listening man. No wonder he is a judge. We were married.
A bit like a doctor jabs you in the arm when you’re not
looking. Then he told a joke, a good one. We walked back
across Brooklyn Bridge and had lunch in Barbuto. Everything
about it was the way it needed to be.

1 September
4.30pm R. → Kennedy and Rome.

4 September
6.10 Searching for Sugar Man w. Tara.
 Moving and simple documentary about the ‘lost’ singer
Rodriguez. Everything they say is right – he was ahead of his
time, his music is wonderful, and his self-possession humbling.

8 September
1.45 → JFK → back to New Orleans.
8pm Coquette. Dinner with Hilary [Shor], Lee,7 his family –
and Jane Fonda. Who, it has to be said, is vibrantly alive and
curious and sexy. She wastes no time in finding out my marital
status (on behalf of a friend, Miss F.). Vulnerable, too.

9 September
The Butler.
8.45 pick-up → make up for prosthetics test.
That is, I suppose, the point of testing. Specifically so that I
can experience the prison of a pile of rubber around the part of
my face that I am going to need most. We dump it, and go for
something simpler. Jane looks great as Nancy [Reagan].

10 September
The Butler.
Get to the set and extras are doing that thing that can only
be called ‘milling about’. Lee cajoling them into feeling high
status, and Jane tangibly nervous. As we wait to make our
entrance at the top of the stairs I say ‘Look at us – a couple of
actors playing a couple of actors playing at being in the White
House.’ She is determined that we should walk down the (3)
steps in unison, so she says ‘Let’s move off on the left foot.’ I
don’t get it right. Probably because we both try to lead.

12 September
Jane is in the lobby, behind her big black shades with her step-
daughter and Carol from Ashé Cultural Center – Jane still
inclusive, curious, involved.
 Into the staff dinner and a relationship with a group of
random extras . . . Oprah’s TV crew is there and there is a non-
aha moment, when I say no to an interview in Reagan gear.
But then pictures from the set are everywhere. Oprah the
Grand Tweeter. The day finishes in fine Lee D.-style as we
shoot a scrambled, unrehearsed R.R. being sworn in scene. No
one’s finest hour . . . But Lee weeps as we finish.

13 September
→ To New York.
8.45. Having written a (hopefully) conciliatory note to
Oprah . . .
On the plane. All too easy to hit the Flixster button, which
leads you to what everyone is doing, which leads you to
Rotten Tomatoes and percentages of people who want to see
it, critics who have seen and liked/disliked it. Factor in Oprah’s
tweeting and there will be opinions before the film is finished.

14 September
2.15 Car → Newark.
The greeter says ‘I was just watching/reading an interview
with Oprah . . .’ As the last two days have worn on, I begin to
wish my note to her had been a little more challenging, along
the lines of – if you want to do serious work, don’t be a circus
act at the same time.

15 September
Arriving at Campagnatico there is an unnerving sign – in
English – saying CONTAMINATED ZONE. Paranoia strikes
and suggests this is aimed at English people living in the
village . . .

16 September
Fucking mosquitoes . . . They like all parts of the body and we
are low on sprays. Pardon the obsessiveness, but with their
energies harnessed they could go for world domination.
28 September
7pm Stanley & Fee’s wedding party.
Shoreditch House.
A small sign of things to come is that almost the first people
I see are Meryl Streep and Tom Cruise. Noisy room beyond
the rooftop swimming pool in this terminally cool place.
Paparazzi outside, of course.

29 September
3.30 Middle Temple.
Fee and Stan get married.
Emily & Susannah Blunt stop the show with ‘Pie Jesu’, as
does Christina with The Beatles’ ‘I Will’. Fee beautiful as ever
and shining. Stan a bit Stan Laurel-ish with happiness.
The day’s line-up has included Meryl S., Colin Firth, Steve
Buscemi, Julianne Moore, Bill Nighy, Oliver Platt,8 Aidan
Quinn, Tony Shalhoub and Ewan McGregor. The (rather
camp) Blunt Bros could go into showbiz. Our table is quite
hard work. Food is sensational. Happy, funny, loving day.

9 October
To Frieze Masters w. Taylor9 who frets a bit about a Zurbarán,
a Madonna & Christ diptych, a Lucian Freud, an
Auerbach . . . maybe she bought them all. The Zurbarán was
£900,000. Saw David Bailey there who said he almost didn’t
recognise me since I look so old.

7 November
Early am. TV on. Flinch for a half second but – Obama has
won. Thank you, USA.

13 November
Pretty much all day on A Little Chaos, eventually getting it
Fedexed to London. It still lives and breathes in those pages.
15 November
Today an offer [re A Little Chaos], dependent on meeting, will
go to Matthias Schoenaerts.10

21 November
11.30 Matthias Schoenaerts.
So much more open and smiling than I had expected. It’s an
instant yes, with all the provisos about his youth. His mum
came with him and she carries her own charisma. She’s a
Beckett translator. I talked a fair amount of rubbish, wading
through illness, but hopefully we move onwards.

24 November
Finally read the trashing of Gambit in the Guardian. The only
thing bitter experience tells you is that you will get over it.

4 December
Justin Vale [consultant urologist]. OK. All change. He feels
that, though still small, the rise in figures needs some
attention.11

5 December
Tea at the Ritz with Deborah Meaden and Lindsay Duncan.
And she’s a delight. Incredible enthusiasm for all that she does,
alive to all nuances, doesn’t waste a second on formalities and
we talk so easily that it seems natural to suggest it should be an
annual event.

7 December
1pm Alliance [Healthcare] MRI.
Would I like classical or chill out music? Chill out, please,
classical is too much work.
All too necessary afterwards to go to Selfridges and buy a
kettle.
11 December
MRI clear. On to David Landau [oncologist].
Later watching Simon & Garfunkel . . . ‘Time it was, and
what a time it was.’

13 December
8pm Evgeny’s12 party at 88 Portland Place in an apartment I
covet. Wide hallways, generous rooms and perfect for the likes
of John Malkovich, Ruth Wilson,13 Keira Knightley, Lloyd-
Webber, Ed Miliband, Nick Clegg, Hugh Grant, Jemima
Khan, Tom Hollander, David Frost, Stephen Fry, Kristin S.-T.,
Edward St Aubyn.

14 December
1.15 Dr Landau.
Who sets out the options, which take a lot of concentration.
Fortunately, I have Jay Smith to demystify.
Selfridges to buy Christmas crackers.

21 December
1.15 Dr Landau.
CT clear.
The lunchtime session was calmly received, but time
scrambles the brain and by the evening it was spinning.

22 December
Sleeping not too easy, either.
Or meeting people socially.
12 Angelus.
No real appetite, but the afternoon spent at home eventually
gets me to a calmer place. Steak supper and watching the
Paralympics opening ceremony helped, too.
24 December
11.30 St James’s.
Midnight carol service, well Mass, really, with its relative lack
of carols and abundance of sitting and standing and answering
and communion. But we held candles and listened in vain for
inspiration from a sermon that threw in an arbitrary reference
to Bob Dylan. Something about the road/the journey . . .
1
All the people named in this entry taught A.R. at RADA.
2
Who succeeded A.R. in the role of Leonard
3
South African director (1949–)
4
American actor Justin Bartha (1978–)
5
Patricia Clarkson, American actor (1959–)
6
Re marrying Rima
7
Lee Daniels, director of The Butler
8
Canadian-American actor (1960–)
9
Taylor Thomson (1959–), Canadian actor and film producer, daughter of Kenneth
Thomson, 2nd Baron of Fleet
10
Belgian actor, film producer and graffiti artist (1977–)
11
Results from A.R.’s prostate health check
12
Evgeny Lebedev (1980–), Russian oligarch who part-owns the Independent and
Evening Standard
13
English actor (1982–)
 2013
A LITTLE CHAOS – RUBY WAX – PARIS – KATE
WINSLET – DEXTER FLETCHER AND DALIA
IBELHAUPTAITĖ – RICHARD GRIFFITHS –
MARGARET THATCHER – HELEN McCRORY –
STANLEY TUCCI – CAMPAGNATICO – ANDY
MURRAY – MEL SMITH – VENICE – EMMA WATSON
– NEW YORK, CBGB – JOHANNESBURG –
CHRISTMAS IN THE BUSH – ON THE ZAMBESI

7 January
LONDON.
Which stretched. Machine malfunction, followed by
insufficient water. Get the balance right and it should be a
mark and time each day.

8 January
9.40 – until 3pm . . . drinking water endlessly, waiting, eating a
sandwich then eventually home to throw it all up.

9 January
An improvement. Finished by 11am. Dr L[andau] stops by and
deconstructs the water issue.

11 January
6pm NT. Christopher Hampton. The Jocelyn Herbert1
Lecture.
At which Christopher told stories about Jocelyn rather than
giving a lecture. I don’t think he was given a clear remit. Not
that it mattered – he was, as ever, entertaining.

15 January
pm. Flattened by tiredness. This is an obstacle course for sure.
16 January
Finished Phyllida’s new book.2 She has such a sly style – giving
you seeming everything, but staying just out of reach. Deeply
humane and funny, of course. And such quality writing talking
about her brother.

22 January
Impossible conversation [re A Little Chaos] with Alison. I can’t
think of many screenwriters who would offer ‘No. No. No.’ to
their director and get away with it.

23 January
Now we hear that Kate Winslet is juggling dates with another
film and that Film 4 says NO . . . The Winter Guest was
certainly green and salad days.

24 January
Sleeping through the excellence of Borgen, wide awake for the
mind-numbing horrors of Question Time, and then the
nightmare-inducing glimpse of The Jonathan Ross Show with
Eddie Redmayne forced to behave like the monkey at the end
of an automatic piano.

27 January
Watched Quartet. Maggie [Smith] and Tom [Courtenay] full-up
with class. And Billy Connolly doing some great work, but
which OAP home is that? Let’s all move in.

29 January
12.30 Rupert Penry-Jones who is charming and easy and all
the things one might expect and also reminds me that he played
Louis in Power at the National. I remember him dancing – a
long and difficult piece of choreography – extremely well. He
almost certainly knows more about the period than any of us,
but is far too well-mannered to let it show.
4 February
A Little Chaos.
First major production meeting.

7 February
11 Ruby is back from LA, where, contrary to her expectations,
she had a blast. Exampled by 2 videos on her iPhone. One,
Carrie Fisher demonstrating the new wooden awning her
mother (DR)3 has constructed so that the dog can pee in the
rain without getting wet, and No. 2 the Angelyne-alike,4 in
blonde wig, stretch neon-pink outfit, and football-sized boobs,
is persuaded by mein host to reproduce her (long-ago) Playboy
poses.

12 February
Blenheim will take care of Versailles and Cliveden’s dining
room will be Louis’ Versailles bedroom. Beautiful. French
moulding and gardens outside. We will put scaffolding outside
the windows. Perfect.

19 February
News via email that our funding is all in place. Now make
Taylor proud. And happy.

25 February
2pm Greek Street. Casting session.
Actor talking to actor while being director. Not comfortable
especially when the parts are so small in terms of lines. In the
cab home, Nina G[old, casting director] talks of the pleasure of
working with an actor/director, so guilt is eased a bit, only to
flare up again watching the annual OSCARs. This is what I do
and we all take ourselves that seriously. Because we have to
while looking more and more irrelevant to the world at large.

2 March
12 Ellen Kuras [cinematographer].
And here’s another global spirit attaching herself to this film.
I sat her down to watch the BBC2 Versailles film.
7.30 Savoy Hotel.
Auction dinner . . . For Park Theatre w. Celia Imrie.
Disastrous start. The Mall is closed off, arrive at the River
entrance; Celia is at the front. There is no indication of which
restaurant we are booked into, and no name to refer to.
Eventually the guests show up, Celia and I are reunited and we
both surf and glide our way through the evening.

4 March
Eurostar → Paris.
Good to see Kate so happy to see Ellen, and for us all to chat
all the way to Gare du Nord. Bertrand meets us – great bus –
and off to Versailles. No-tourists day, so unforgettably, we had
the Hall of Mirrors to ourselves, and a guide who gave us all
the facts we are ignoring. Louis watched in bed by 80 people,
no dancing after 30, slept alone etc., etc.

11 March
8pm Dexter and Dalia.
Sunshine on Leith, Dexter’s new film, which has great charm
but is seeking its own rhythm and identity at the moment.
On the way home, pick up emails from Gail [producer] re
Taylor.5 Wobbling. Proof positive. Don’t mix finance and
friends, and a demonstration of how the rich are corralled by
the people who feed off them.

14 March
7.45 pick-up → Chenies with its amazing gardens.
But these are the days for the cold to crawl inside you,
indoors or out. Exhausted by late afternoon, feet like ice blocks
and longing to sit inside the car with the heater on, and a cup
of tea.

17 March
1.30 Belinda and Matt w. David, Edward & Miranda.
Somewhere in here, I found myself in a quiet despair that E.
would ever ask a question, actually wait for an answer and then
elicit some more. It is an endless stream of commentary – does
it come from a well-worn path? Noël Coward, Gore Vidal,
Truman Capote?

18 March
Kate and I walk through the script. And she really takes the
time to examine every loose thought, every wayward word.
These are the fine tunings now. And we can’t lose sight of the
drive toward story-telling.

25 March
4pm Met Nick Gaster who will edit. Fortunately, I liked him
well enough. Difficult relationship – months together without
needing it to turn into friendship. He assumed he had the job,
anyway, so it was doubly lucky we got on.

28 March
Home to sad news of Richard Griffiths. Dear Griffo, and the
undying memories of him as Pyramus in Stratford making 1500
people weak with laughter when doing almost nothing. Or in
History Boys, with a tiny inflection. A master.

8 April
. . . the day Margaret Thatcher died. Rima can’t watch the
coverage, I have a blank fascination at seeing so many years pan
across one’s memories, along with mindless adulation from
being given certainty.

15 April
A Little Chaos – Day One. Chenies.

16 April
6.15 → Chenies.
A day memorable for the beginning of the carriage crash and
for hilarity caused by my using the walkie-talkie as a telephone.
Also K.W.’s husband6 arrived and there was a distinct sense of
an onset presence that distracted concentration . . .

17 April
6.15 → Chenies.
Kate gives so little of herself – everything as an actor – but
there is never a moment where she finds out anything about
her fellow actors – or even says bravo or thank you. Strange to
witness. Such a deliberately erected wall.

22 April
6.25 pick-up → Ham House.
Into the study.
Writing this at the end of a peculiarly disturbing day. Maybe
the room was too small, with too many people or something,
but we got off to a slow start and although Kate and Matthias
never faltered or lost focus, we were struggling to make the
day’s shots by the end of the day, even with an hour’s overtime.
Things definitely not helped by Nick Gaster’s visit which was
like being given a glass of room temperature water. Just his
style, I suspect. But the vapour lingers, and at the point of
writing, it is hard to remember that we actually did some good
work today.

26 April
End of Week Two.
In the collection room with Matthias and Helen [McCrory]
. . . Helen is as wild and unpredictable as ever, but taming her
(a little) for a take here and there, and at the same time
allowing for some brilliance all of her own, means that with
Matthias’ mystery and containment there is some great work.

30 April
Wow. A day that threatened to be hellish . . . So not helped by
actors not knowing their lines well enough. Strangely
unpredictable state of affairs, but it put us hours behind.

7 May
Some great work from K.W. and M.S. today, in bed.

12 May
12 Ian McKellen. For brunch before he disappears for months
to New Zealand and then New York. Always a room full of
people happy to see each other and Ian beavering away at the
stove.

14 May
7.45 pick-up.
Mud bath. In the rain. Rockwork Grove [Versailles] looks
like a set for Mother Courage. A brilliant one, at that. Steven7 has
such a light touch inside such a self-defeating head. Fortunately
he is in a scene with Kate who just copes with anything and
everything. We pressed on through the rain and mud.

19 May
Much needed day at home. Leafing through the script.
Looking for missing beats . . . Getting rid of limescale on the
downstairs garden door. And pigeon shit on the chairs. Sitting
outside for the first time with a cup of tea and some toasted
panettone. Having a roast beef dinner.

20 May
Week Six.
1pm Hampton Court.
 Oh boy. That was tough. Sorting out coverage and not
sorting out Stanley [Tucci]. Who said he had been finishing
some writing all day. A constant source of amazement to me is
different approaches to the word freedom. Mine is totally
connected to the word discipline. Stanley, with all the fervour
in his huge heart, said ‘You will kill it, if you do this’ (do it
again, do it again, faster, lighter). I can only say (but didn’t, and
wouldn’t) you can’t kill something if it isn’t alive.

22 May
Storm in the Grove. Three drenched actors and a sodden set.
Which years ago, it seems, was an open-air ballroom. Now the
(fake) wind is in the tarpaulins and the (fake) rain arcs across
relevant (visible) parts of the set. Soon thunder will be added to
the (fake) lightning.

29 May
10.10 → Cliveden.
Into the King’s Bedroom, with Stanley. Who didn’t entirely
know his not many lines . . . A shame that his curiosity has left
him somewhere along the line, but he’s had a helluva time and
now has a new marriage, three kids, moved to London, new
home. Why worry about acting?

7 June
This is our last official day of shooting. Kate is now 16 (?)
weeks pregnant and giving everything. By the end of each day
she is wiped but still unbelievably focused. Matthias’ last day,
today, and this sweet, questioning soul melts back to where he
came from. And graces his next umpteen projects.

9 June
A Little Chaos – Last day.
Like a relay race with one runner. Kate jumping from
carriage to carriage to desk to bath. Lights up, lights down. Au
revoir to Kate. She moves swiftly and cleanly on – total
commitment to everything. Ned, the children, this film, the
next film, the kids’ baked beans, throwing [a] party, ruthless
emotional commitment, ruthless emotional detachment.
Wrap party. Which turned out to be a joyous thing.
Chiswick House. Great venue . . . But all these sudden
goodbyes to people who have shared the inside of your head,
heart, insecurities, triumphs, have laughed, stared and yawned
with you . . . now the strange absence.

10 June
Wow. Like being hit by a train. The whole body in a kind of
shock. What was that? Well, I know what it was, but not how
much the body holds itself in a constant readiness. I guess this is
the aftermath of all that controlled tension. No wonder the left
knee gave out, and has now joined the right knee in two
independent states. Their own pain, rules and barriers.
A day of relentless exhaustion. Falling asleep at any sofa
opportunity.
Supper at home after an attack of common sense said ‘Don’t
go out. Have steak and chips instead.’

11 June
Campagnatico.
26 Via Umberto opened its doors and its freshly painted
heart and the sun was shining as we changed the cushion covers
on the terrace and under the pergola, and opened a bottle of
white wine, waiting for the supermarket to open.

14 June
Dinner at Vecchia Oliviera.
As we walk in, the faithful, and brilliant, pizza-maker shows
us to a table or rather opens his arms for us to choose, as we are
the only customers at 8pm. When Cortado arrives to take our
order, I ask him: ‘How are things?’ ‘Everything is difficult.’
‘And new people in government?’ ‘They are all the same.’ The
walk through this little town is sad – no tables & chairs in the
square, shops closed. By the time we leave the restaurant,
custom had grown to 8 more people.

16 June
Tied up the new sun blind. Shoe laces – temporary solution.

26 June
Pisa → London.
9am. Cushions put away, suitcases packed, rubbish dumped
and on the road to Pisa.
On the plane w. Guardian iPad edition. Thank you
Catherine Bennett and, as ever, Nancy Banks-Smith (and while
we’re at it Marina Hyde) for endlessly dipping your pens in the
acid juices that hang in the air from Jane Austen and Dorothy
Parker. I guess it’s a barbed delicacy men don’t possess. Or need
to develop, given might is right.

27 June
ALC edit begins.
Of course all I could see was what is wrong. How to reclaim
some innocence will be the big thing – doubtless through
having the guts to show it to others. The headlines are clear –
Nick cuts the action scenes really well, but doesn’t always know
where the heart of the scene is in the talkier moments. We
spent the afternoon reclaiming some of that. Whacked by the
evening.

2 July
I can now feel the film having a life of its own and I alternate
between wanting it finished, magically, tomorrow and wanting
to sit there for 24 hours straight. I have, however, no idea how
this film will lose 30 minutes. I cannot see what can be cut
without chopping into the narrative.

6 July
12.15 Wimbledon.
Lunch in the dining room with an extraordinary group of
champions & finalists – Margaret Court, Billie Jean King,
Virginia Wade, Ann Jones, Angela Mortimer, Martina
Navratilova, Martina Hingis, Maria Bueno, Christine Truman,
Jana Novotná, Hana Mandlíková.
Spent time talking to Maria Bueno, and later Billie Jean
King, but mostly with Virginia Wade over tea . . . Of course
she has a script . . . But she’s interesting . . . So, of course, is
Billie Jean. The other treat was sitting next to Miranda Hart –
many laughs about being lip-read by idiot commentators.

7 July
Andy Murray wins Wimbledon!!!!
12 Kristin Linklater.
Brunch.
This so smart, engaged and curious-about-everything
woman. And a Scot, too. So of course she stayed to watch
ANDY MURRAY WIN WIMBLEDON. Heart in mouth
time for every second, but a real display of courage and focus
and accuracy.

18 July
1.15 Dr Landau.
All my doctors, and now my editor – a doctor, in a way –
are seriously downbeat. Is this a good thing . . .?

20 July
A phone call Chris Gull [old friend]. Almost as soon as he said
‘Have you heard the news’, I knew he was going to say ‘Mel
died’ . . . Later at home, got an address for Pam. Another heart
attack, the day after Snoo Wilson’s8 funeral. Another waste of
an enormous talent and great spirit, a couple of Toby Belches,
Falstaffs, their laughter always tempered by something else.
8pm Griff Rhys Jones.
His Fitzroy Square home is truly beautiful. Full of Mel’s
colleagues and friends, it is the perfect backdrop to a
spectacular and – I don’t know the adjective – person and life.

20 August
10.30 Screening for Gail, Andrea and Ray [Cooper, producer].
Sitting alone in the cutting room. Just me and the film. To
be remembered above all things – I was moved. Especially by
Kate and Matthias at their most open and vulnerable. Clearly,
there are choices to be made but having received Gail and
Andrea’s notes, the crucial things to remember are – I can’t
make their film. And everything in the film is cumulative –
information has to be given for the audience to feel anything. I
loved Tree of Life – others hated it. There is no perfect way for
all these individuals to have their say. I must listen, ask for what
they feel, not what they would cut and edit.

24 August
Stay at home alone day, apart from the Waitrose expedition in
the rain.
Thatcher – The Downing Street Years has proved to be
fascinating, with ex-ministers only too ready to tell all. And
they cut to her – not a listening bone in her body, eyes flaring
instead of nostrils.

29 August
6pm Rima home. And apart from anything else the bedroom is
not half-empty any more.

30 August
3pm Screening for us.
This was a tougher one. Starting to see more of the rights
and wrongs now. The seesaw of choices.

2 September
10 Dean Street.
Now down to somewhere around 2 hrs 17 mins.

3 September
Venice.
6.45 Car → Heathrow.
9.15 → Venice.
Then hang around at the Festival desk for ½ an hour before
the car to the boat to the Excelsior Hotel. And the camera,
photo hordes start locusting.
Escape quickly in a boat to Venice and spend the afternoon
wandering, buying an ice cream & a handbag for Ms Rima,
before the boat back, a lie-down and another boat ride –
glorious one, in a taxi for us alone straight to dinner.

4 September
10 Walk into ‘town’ and locust attack. Refuge in a side street
after a wander to the beach.

5 September
Sleep on and off until nearly 10. Pack. Home to a pervasive
sense of the irrelevance of it all which we have to take so
seriously. The work is the pleasure but then always the
judgement, which can strip the pleasure like turpentine.

13 September
7.45pm Kathy Lette.
Oh Kathy . . .
The guests – Barry Humphries, Terry Gilliam, Helena
Kennedy, Ruby & Ed, Ed & Justine Miliband, Benedict
Cumberbatch, Jemima Khan, Salman Rushdie. For God’s sake.
Exhausting just writing that. But good chats with Justine M.
(the pressure of it all) and Ed is upright and still looking
forward. An inspiration and still curious about everybody and
everything.

16 September
10 Dean Street.
Some BBC notes come through. As Gail says, strange they
read like script notes, not edit notes. At all events, quite a few
cannot be considered since they refer to a different film . . .
We press on, cutting, tightening, shifting. The BBC note
that rings bells is to shake its logical order up a bit. Hard to
predict if that is possible.

17 September
10am Dean Street.
And then notes from Zygi [Kamasa] at Lionsgate. Boy, do
you have to be strong in this game. He wants it to be all
Kate/Matthias, what’s going on in her head and let’s watch
them fall in love. Everything else is peripheral etc., etc.
Yes, it is a love story. Yes, must see the inside of her head. But
there has to be a texture and a context for the main narrative.

18 September
10pm The Delaunay. ‘There’s someone in tonight I think you
might know,’ whispered the maître d’, like a ventriloquist. ‘Oh,
who?’ ‘Emma Watson.’

21 September
The blessed, to-be-guarded stay at home Saturday. Apart from
the food trip to Marylebone High Street. A toaster repair, some
great-looking tomatoes and fish pie.

27 September
12.30 Harvey Nichols. Where they only stock clothes for
human pipe cleaners, it seems.

3 October
11am Dean Street.
Run the film.
First part improving all the time. Desperate need for music
now.
Nick suggests a radical cut which eventually I concede, but
when I realise it contains a major narrative and psychological
flaw, I got the standard reply ‘I don’t think people will notice
that.’ Even later phone calls receive the same stonewalling. This
is a relationship in a moment of severe strain.

4 October
→ New York for CBGB premiere.

7 October
2 hours of phone interviews. The same five questions over and
over again.

11 October
6.30am → Heathrow (2 hrs’ sleep).
Home to shower, get ready to go into Dean Street. Just in
time – Nick Manzi’s [Lionsgate] notes. How someone I
regarded as an intelligent, aware guy can write such illiterate,
insensitive crap is a wonder.

16 October
7pm 20th C. Fox Cinema. First public screening.
And yes, it feels slow at the beginning. And the music is so
missing. And question marks abound. But the audience is very
concentrated.

17 October
11am w. Nick. More like 11.30, by which time Andrea and
Gail were there – full of how ‘good the figures were’ from last
night, and what marks out of ten the actors had. It may have
come as a surprise to them how this was received in my
corner . . . I made a speech about not being interested, that my
job is a delicate balance between manipulation and truth, and
that doing that successfully will mean ‘good figures’, rather
than attending to the figures too closely. I was gently banging
my head against the wall.

27 October
Later, at home, the newsflash that Lou Reed has died. And a
memory of the evening at a table with him in Bar Centrale in
NY. When he talked so eloquently about theatre and acting.
Not music. Not himself.

2 November
12.15 Philomena – Gate.
Deeply frustrating. Seeming to ride on (correct) assumption
of Judi’s greatness allowing quite a lot of script laziness.
Watching it is to constantly want to put your hand up and yell
‘Excuse me, what about/why didn’t she/why hasn’t he???’ Etc.,
etc. We had to go to Jamie Oliver’s shop immediately
afterwards and spend a small fortune in order to recover.

6 November
Wednesday nights won’t be the same once Gogglebox is
gone . . . It makes me love the British. Just when you think all
compassion and fellow-feeling is gone there they all are on the
sofa, totally with some strangers on TV.

18 November
4.40 Cab → GPO Tower/Philippines Telethon, where – sign
of the abject times – phone lines are blocked by girls hoping to
talk to – not there – New Direction.9 Sat with Juliet and
caught up, in between the odd call that did want to give money.
Somewhere in the 34th floor turntable – Jamie Oliver, Andrew
Marr, Stephen Merchant, Nigel Havers, Phill Jupitus et al. – all
dodging lack of New Direction slam downs.
12 December
10am Dr Landau.
Who was happier – almost than me – to record 0.00, and to
say that even Dr Reid’s 0.03 meant that things were definitely
AOK.

14 December
am Hooray for the NHS.
First sight of trouble, on the phone and round to St Mary’s –
blood test – maybe an infection, but wheels in motion
including talking to Justin Vale. And this two days after a
thumbs up.

16 December
7 Screening.
Vue Cinema, Fulham Broadway. A cinema in a shopping
mall almost on Fulham Broadway tube station.
Horrible sound – music too quiet, sound effects too loud,
and an echo. It felt as if it was slow, but the audience was very
quiet in a good way. Patti Love came and was knocked out and
passionate that it should not be speeded up.

18 December
9am Lionsgate Office.
Everyone’s a filmmaker, everyone’s a critic, it seems.
Would Daniel in the lions’ den be the image? . . . These are
forces that somehow have to be simultaneously accepted and
resisted.
2.45 for 3.30 Lindo Wing/St Mary’s.10
Into the laced-up-the-back gown and a side-room, before
walking into the operating room, and Justin Vale, courteous as
ever, showing me the inside of my bladder on a
video-screen . . . After the ambiguities of the morning, facts
and lack of agenda come as something of a relief.

19 December
11am Abbey Road.
Lionsgate ‘loves’ the film, and wants to help make it ‘the best
it can be’ (?) and is offering more money & more time for any
pick-ups or strengthenings that occur. I am mystified and
somewhat confused. We have contained and simplified and
now they are saying ‘stitch and expand’ . . .? This is unpicking
a sweater.
5pm car → Heathrow.
8.40 → Johannesburg.

20 December
10ish → The Saxon Hotel.
High walls, barbed wire, electronics everywhere outside.
Inside all is pools and plants and peacefulness.

21 December
8.20 → Johannesburg Airport.
A chancer shows us the way to the clinic for the yellow fever
injection – ‘Give me the blue one (100 Rand) – no the blue
one . . .’ He got the red one . . .
Then to Maun (1½hrs) on the 11.40 followed by the 4 seater
over the bush to Mombo.

22 December
5am wake-up.
This morning gave us a field of 300 buffalo, many giraffes, a
rainbow of birds, a 2000-year-old tree (all of them appearing
suddenly, as if out of nowhere), elephants up really close and
just before lunch, a bunch of lions sleeping it off, while a
crowd of vultures hung about in the trees – the remains of last
night’s buffalo kill; in this case the head and a rib cage . . . And
the frantic buzzing of a million . . . flies.

24 December
5am Last Mombo trip out.
And before long, with his X-ray vision, Callum [their guide]
spots five wild dogs lying in the sun. Once every three months,
these sightings. And then begins the great chase as we career or
pause through the bush following the steady pursuit of
lunch/dinner.

25 December
7pm Glorious Christmas Surprise.
Dinner in a clearing in the bush. Beef, turkey, big table,
candles, and lion roaring nearby . . . Unforgettable. The
Mexican couple had asked for a separate table. Even they could
see its ludicrous isolation in this special, shared place, and
sulkily joined us.

27 December
2.30 Flight to King’s Pool.

28 December
. . . an eventful few hours, chasing wild dogs and eventually
finding them with the end of their hunt – an impala. By the
time we found them it was just a few bones. Apparently, they
can devour the whole animal in 1½ minutes. Then a group of
lions guarding last night’s quarry – a hippo bloodynecked and
motionless under a tree.

29 December
6am wake-up.
Out to inspect the hippo corpse and the lions munching
away, while 3 hyenas wait.

31 December
5-seater – 1 hour – to Kasane. Then cab to speedboat, and then
45 min cab . . . to Toka Leya. The Zambesi flowing outside
our . . . front door.
4.30 Just the two of us – sliding up the Zambesi, with
Donald, the boatman. Unforgettable. The atom bomb of mist
coming off the [Victoria] Falls 1¼ km away. Back at 6.30, a
swift shower & change. Dinner at 7.15. Done by 9. Utter
wimps back to the room with a bottle of champagne. Goodbye
& such memories 2013.
1
British stage and costume designer (1917–2003)
2
How Many Camels Are There in Holland? Dementia, Ma and Me
3
American actor Debbie Reynolds (1932–2016)
4
Angelyne (1950–) is an American singer (and phenomenon) who was famous in
the 1980s for her provocative poses on billboards in California.
5
Thomson, re finance for A Little Chaos
6
Edward Abel Smith, aka Ned Rocknroll
7
English actor Steven Waddington (1967–)
8
English playwright and director (1948–2013), who also died of a heart attack
9
One of the strongest typhoons ever to make landfall struck the Philippines on 7
November 2013, reducing the city of Tacloban to rubble and resulting in thousands
of deaths. A.R. was one of a number of celebrities – including members of the boy
band, One Direction (not New Direction) – to lend their names to the relief effort.
10
A.R. was having a routine screening for cancer.
 2014
ZAMBIA – CAPE TOWN – PHILIP SEYMOUR
HOFFMAN – TONY BENN – BOB HOSKINS – IAN
McKELLEN’S 75TH BIRTHDAY – CAMPAGNATICO –
RIK MAYALL – NEW YORK – HELEN McCRORY –
RICHARD ATTENBOROUGH – A LITTLE CHAOS
PREMIERE, TORONTO – EYE IN THE SKY – MIKE
NICHOLS – CAPE TOWN

1 January
8am Victoria Falls.
Not sure what I imagined, but I did not think that they
would seem so close, or that they exert such an immense pull
to jump into them. In some part of the brain’s mindless area. It’s
all so wraparound. The sound, the spray, the height, the width.
An assault on all the senses.

2 January
To Johannesburg and then Cape Town. Pringle Bay.
Godfrey collects us for the drive around Livingstone, which
is the real deal. Especially the market area . . . Elsewhere a stall
selling secondhand bags. Otherwise every other building seems
to be a church, including the Old Capitol cinema.
11ish to the airport. For queuing hell, and the 13.15 to
Johannesburg. Route march to B Terminal and the 17.00 to
Cape Town. Liza is in the Departures Hall and we slide down
to Pringle Bay in her brother’s car.
Watched Ruby being both good and hyper on HARDTalk.

3 January
Lunch. A snooze. A walk on the beach with the dogs and it’s
time to hightail it to Hook, Line & Sinker for dinner lest we
incur Stefan’s unbelievably well-projected wrath at being late. I
got in first to defuse. Temporarily. As soon as the others come
in the door ‘I thought I said 7.30 . . .’ But it’s all a bit pretend
and he soon gets on with preparing an array of squid, prawns,
swordfish and others that cover the table. On leaving, he drops
the bombshell that this was probably our last meal there. He’s
retiring in April.

5 January
Home to the mail, the cold, the everything that is opposite to
where we have just been. Sitting watching crappy TV you
realise is a kind of 21st century meditation. Your mind is
engaged in a nothingness that allows it to wander.

11 January
12 Years a Slave.
Hmm. A great film, I am told. Would I watch it twice? No.
What does it say? Should Chiwetel [Ejiofor] get an Oscar? No.1
He’s in it a lot, looking worried, and breathing heavily. Is that
enough? [Michael] Fassbender, however, is very fine. Makes you
ferret to understand him. Somehow, I was always watching
actors, not a story.

23 January
On the way home, a visit – forced – to Dean Street Tesco.
What a dump this chain is. Reduced their staff as much as
possible in favour of shoppers checking their own food out,
cabinets missing items, one variety of fruit, and a 15 minute
wait for one of the few attendants to go get a bottle of vodka.
A must to avoid. A sort of shopping equivalent of our shoddy
government.

26 January
1.30pm Taylor Thomson.
Taylor’s usual eclectic mix full of who arrives last (Fi, of
course) and who leaves first (Cherie & Tony), and the
orchestrated conversation in between . . . Tony seems to be
behind some shield, and Cherie more vulnerable than ever.

31 January
R’s birthday.
9pm The Shed.
Young, noisy crowd but they found us a corner table so that
our combined age didn’t embarrass the room.

2 February
The news tells us that Philip Seymour Hoffman has died. This
is truly shocking. Apart from the depth and range of his talent,
and the sense of him as a leader in the industry, he was also an
NY neighbour. Met him once after Borkman, at BAM – but
saw him having breakfast on 8th Avenue. He was both ordinary
and extraordinary.

4 February
[Re A Little Chaos]
A day at home. And another day of silent . . . cursing at the
crassness of the distributors’ notions of screenwriting. Nobody
tells them how to distribute or market, but the common rule of
a very fat thumb is that they know how to adjust a script. I
recognise a good idea when I see it or hear it. I also recognise
something that is merely adding surplus fat to a lean animal. It
will make it move more slowly.

7 February
Screening for Ellen [Kuras, cinematographer], Kate and
Matthias. And they liked the film. Maybe even loved the film.
Although Kate is straight in with the ‘Can’t we . . .?’ ‘Why
can’t we . . .?’

17 February
5.30 Buckingham Palace.
 Sectioned off from Thelma into a line-up – Angela
Lansbury, Steve McQueen, Jane Horrocks, Lenny Henry, Luke
Treadaway2 to meet the Queen. Who shakes my hand and
moves on, as ever.
Then down to the concert in the ballroom – huge, no
microphones, people can’t hear. Then a voice in my ear – ‘The
Duchess of Cambridge would like to meet you.’ And nice and
chatty she was, too. A hundred faces to chat to. Impossible.

24 February
10am Dean Street.
I can sense Nick’s exhaustion today. He even had a migraine
in the afternoon. Mainly, though, he knew it was the Last Big
Day and so he just did what I suggested, knowing it had to be
passed over for tomorrow morning. I think we made strides,
but hard to believe that it comes down to the wire like this and
that the main hope is that we hang on to what we had back in
December.

26 February
7.30 Dinner w. Patti Love at home. Harriet, Guy [Paul, her
husband], A.L. Kennedy.
Harriet unstoppable these days – in a disarming way – in her
ability to talk about herself pretty non-stop. She even gave me a
birthday book with a feature on her inside. Guy is pretty silent
during all of this – looking on lovingly, as do we all. She has
however – as his Christmas gift – booked him into Prue Leith’s
cookery school. (She hates cooking. He doesn’t cook but
doubtless soon will.)

5 March
We had 2 episodes of Line of Duty today. It is excellent stuff –
with really interesting, unfussy actors everywhere. And for the
most part you can feel – in a good way – the Scandinavian
influence. And then a swift kick of melodrama and it’s the UK
again. But all in all, classy stuff.
12 March
6.45 Latymer Fundraiser.
This really was a time flies moment standing in the same spot
in the school hall where I performed 50 years ago, 50 years
since ‘it rains on the games that we play at Wood Lane’ and the
shamefully dropped towel. Yikes. Instantly liked the new
headmaster. It is a family, this place. The tiled and honour-
boarded hall ensures that. My job is to be the occasional
reminder that money isn’t the only consideration.

14 March
. . . Tony Benn has died. On TV this evening, a long tribute
with Roy Hattersley still unable to cover his resentment and
Neil talking of someone without whom life would have been
poorer, but his path would doubtless have been easier. I
remember having dinner with him and Melissa after Private
Lives one night, and saw nothing of what R.H. calls ‘hubris’ –
only gentle curiosity and warmth. And I applaud the courage
to an echo.

25 March
9.45 The film starts to re-emerge, new clothes, new hair, new
faces. Maybe it is good for it to be unsettled in this way – for a
bit – but the post-production gun to the head is a continuing
outrage. There is definitely the ART and the PRODUCT.

30 March
1.30 The Savoy.
Kathy Lette and Geoff[rey Robinson].
And a table with a river view. Table talk always good with
these two – veering happily between frolicsome and deeply
political. It also turns out that Geoffrey is involved in the call
for getting Stephen Ward’s3 conviction overturned, and that he
and Kathy are friends with Mandy Rice-Davies.
30 April
Sitting in the Lipsync lobby glancing to the TV screen behind
the reception desk. The sound is down, everybody chatting,
eating, and I see the strapline that Bob Hoskins has died. Dear
Bob – direct, warm, vulnerable and so honest in his talent and
everyday. I called Patti Love in the evening. I first met him
when they were together. We managed to find things to laugh
about.

3 May
Popping into Daunt’s for a browse, I picked up Lynn Barber’s
new number.4 Her interview with Nadal (sprinkled with hints
that kept her this side of a libel suit) reminded me to just say no.

5 May
Bank Holiday.
1pm Recording with Sharleen S. and Johnny.
Great house Ms S. has – opposite London Zoo. And then
round the back to Johnny’s mews to record the song. In the
kitchen, nearly. Nervous-making. A duet – sort of – with
Sharleen?? I don’t really know if they were genuinely happy.
Another example of how useless nerves are.

23 May
3pm Lipsync.
Thank heavens. There were bumps and grinds that needed
sorting. They were sorted and now – the film is done.

24 May
2 Wolf Hall.
Watching this as if it is a curious hybrid – I know I am in a
theatre, it sounds like a radio play, it looks like a book on stage.
Everyone else is very happy, though.
7.30 Bring Up the Bodies.
 And then it became more of the theatre. Maybe the
confrontations were stronger, or the ellipses more elegant. Ben
Miles (playing Cromwell) also seemed to grow rather than hide.

25 May
3pm Ian McKellen.
His 75th birthday party.
Sunshine, caviar, the Gormley statue looking endlessly up
the river, a v. good magician.
And a cab home with Edna, made priceless by her story of
the jealous snatching of poems at an Irish embassy do by Fiona
S., Seamus Heaney and herself. These 3 reduced to ‘It’s not
fair’ stuff.

31 May
Campagnatico.
Was in bed when Claudio came to ‘trim’ the top of the olive
tree. He halved it . . .

5 June
Campagnatico.
Sitting and drawing in the garden while back in London
there is a screening [of A Little Chaos]. Opposite activities, but
linked as I watch my hand listen to my eyes in a parallel action
to being on set, the editing room, the grade, the mix.

8 June
10pm Pushed by Ms Rima, we go down to the (deserted)
square, and into Massimo’s Enoteca, for a grappa and to buy
some wine. ‘How is it?’ we ask. ‘Terrible’ is the obvious
answer. We talk about wanting to write to someone – and now
WE MUST. It is ridiculous to see a village die like this. Over
the years, the garage, the bread shop, the homeware shops, the
flower shop, the wine bar. Now the grocery store and the
hotel.
9 June
And now Rik Mayall has gone. Rik – always so vulnerable
underneath the ringmaster persona. But this is out of the blue.
Shocking. Sitting here in the sun, I just cannot take it in. Ruby
emails back. ‘He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
The pain the pain.’

10 June
Lindsay’s email tells me that Kevin Elyot5 has gone, too. As she
says, ‘He did well, though, didn’t he?’ Typical Lindsay. Straight
to the point. Moving but unsentimental. And Kevin did do
well.
1pm Sabrina and Tom Stoppard i.e. Sir Tom and Lady
Stoppard for lunch. Their first outing having got married at the
weekend. Sabrina so happy. ‘I love saying “my husband”.’

11 June
8.45am Mario, Alessandro’s stand-in, collects us for the drive to
Pisa.
Earlier, had read various items about Rik. Including an
interview with Lynn Barber from 2000 which caught him
brilliantly. And the Guardian tells us today that his death was as
sudden as his energy.
Dear Rik – so out there and so private, so wild and so
vulnerable.

16 June
11am Quo Vadis.
Gail.
So many lines to read between. Conversations with
distributors that can only be guessed at. ‘They think it isn’t a
winter film.’ ‘Maybe better for next year.’

17 June
Barbara [Rik Mayall’s wife] called. Asking me to read.

19 June
Rik’s funeral.
11.15 The short drive to the church in Dittisham. My God,
is Devon beautiful . . . as is the church.
12.15 Barbara and Rosie, Sid, Bonnie6 arrive and a beautiful
and deeply personal service starts. Nearly a comedy exit, as the
hearse plus people couldn’t make it up the hill . . .
The farm is stunning, and Rik was buried on a hill above it,
overlooking the countryside. Ben Elton, Kevin McNally,7 Rik’s
brother spoke and a Burns poem was read.

25 June
To New York.

2 July
11 Cafe Cluny.
Jordan Hoffman [film critic] on the 15th anniversary of
Galaxy Quest, digging away to find clues whether Tim and I
had got on or were we mirrors of our parts. What a
surprise . . . an angle.

19 July
Yes to Toronto [Film Festival] – and finally news today that the
deal is done. Kate will be there. Possibly from her own front
lawn, with only one toe hitting the red carpet.

20 July
To Munich.
3pm Car → JFK and in the lounge is Julian Schnabel8 w. his
assistant Cat. Travelling to Naples . . . tells me of his version of
Perfume that Bernd E[ichinger, producer] ‘buried’. And invites
us to lunch on an island near Positano.
21 July
7.15 in Munich and in the Lufthansa lounge chatting to Julian
S. who is clearly enslaved by his one-year-old son who he is
picking up here and taking to Italy. No wonder he makes good
art. He is a human being. Jeff Koons, Ai Weiwei. It all comes
in threes.
To Naples and the hour or so drive to Positano Le Sirenuse.

22 July
7.45 Invited for a drink at the hotel bar w. Richard Gere & his
son. He gets waylaid by a rough sea, so we meet briefly in
lobby . . . He is warm, smart and open as one would assume.

23 July
Giffoni Film Festival.
3.30 . . . for a Q&A with festival participants. Qs from
Qatar, Australia, S. Korea etc., etc. Smart and touching. An
award that looks like an HP prop on perspex.

24 July
Around 4pm we go with Taylor down to the harbour and get
on the dinghy to Parvati – the luxury, on-tap cruiser she has
rented for the next two weeks. Magnificent journey in and
around massive rocks, and settling eventually looking back at
twinkling Capri. We are, however, on Tangier time – she didn’t
tell the chef she was ready for dinner. We ate at 10.30pm.
Delicious but ridiculous. We sailed back to Positano and got to
our room at 2am.

26 July
To London.

29 July
An email from Stanley, having just watched the film. He loved
it, but I didn’t love the fact that nobody asked me. Adam9 loved
it, too, and had better manners.

13 August
7.30 Medea. National Theatre.
Helen McCrory absolutely commands that ghastly space, but
the production has no idea what it is aiming for. The leaves
falling as Medea exits was the final unnecessary touch.
The Delaunay.
Helen arrives, apologetic about delay. ‘The director [Carrie
Cracknell] was in for the first time since press night. I thought
for a moment she was going to give me some notes. I have
directed myself for five weeks.’ Oh, Lord.

21 August
6.40 Heathrow Express for the 8.50 → Pisa.

24 August
Campagnatico.
Getting home to the news that Dickie Attenborough has
died. Dear Dickie.

27 August
Watching the ALC trailer in some horror. The whole film in 2
mins. With stolen dialogue V/Overed. On repeat viewings, I
can see what they are aiming at, but watching this version –
questionable that I would go and see it. And from Gail, reports
of a chocolate box poster image. Here we go.

31 August
10am A Little Chaos.
Cast and crew screening.
A unique, unnameable experience. Watching something you
have made being shown to the people who helped to make it.
And knowing that supportive though they may be, they will
not tell a lie.

3 September
3pm Eye in the Sky medical. And a pretty full medical it was,
too. Including touch your toes . . .

11 September
Reviews are out. Good, bad and indifferent. The familiar
tightening of the brain. The familiar silences from the rest of
the world.

12 September
To Toronto.

13 September
6.30 To Roy Thomson Hall.
Watch the film.
At the end, after such tangible silence and laughter that came
from the whole house, from people who were listening, 2000
people stood and clapped loud and long. Total, uncluttered
acclaim for something that had reached them very directly.

25 September
7.30 Marea w. Mike Nichols.
Listening to Mike spin a verbal nest around past and present
could almost become an aim in life. So literate, such enormous
breadth of references and mixed in with the damning is also the
celebrating. He talks of Philip S.-H.: ‘I think I killed him.’
Orson Welles: ‘So anecdotal & then I had dinner with him &
loved him.’ Elaine May,10 Scott Rudin,11 doing Our Town,
Streep and Master Class, Tony Kushner, being asked to play
Hamlet (‘God no’) – but then he is, amazingly, 83, and as many
names that he recalls there are more that he can’t.

10 October
7.15 → London.
Listened to Ed Sheeran and Goldfrapp (Alison). She could be
singing any old words. Not a consonant in earshot.

17 October
London Film Festival, Odeon West End.
5.35 Red carpet. ‘What attracted you to this project?’ times
10.
7.45 Watch the last ½ hour. Wonderful concentration in the
cinema. Huge applause at the end.
9ish The Union Club. Friends all seriously knocked out by
the film.

23 October
1pm Peter Gregson.12
I think it is Peter’s surface that talks so quietly and laughs at
the end of almost every question, and just keeps going, with
only a rare question or moment of listening. I think he saves all
that for the music.

24 October
Very early a.m.
Reading through Eye in the Sky and making pictures in my
head of every scene, every moment. Some of them being
dangerously repetitive, but I guess that’s what we are here for
now. Sleight of everything.
6.30 Car → Heathrow and the 9.30 becomes the 10.20.
Maybe 2½ hours’ sleep. Too much turbulence.

29 October
Cape Town.
Huge and terrifying problem trying to connect brain to
mouth. Lack of sleep on the plane added to 2 hours, wake up,
1½ hours, wake up, led to memory panic.
30 October
Occasionally a burst of clarity but an overwhelming sense of
surviving, not enriching . . . A very hot, dusty room and a
costume that was tight and adapted. No concrete sense of who
I was.

1 November
A happy final morning. Glorious Cape Town sunshine as we
filmed in an old colonial-type club and then a created-from-
nothing toyshop in Church Square. And I was relaxed because
it was character, not jargon. I should be more careful to allow
more time if this is anything to be repeated.

5 November
London.
Whacked. All day. Even slept through most of my current
favourite TV programme – Grayson Perry: Who Are You? on
Channel 4.

20 November
Mike Nichols has died. He had looked suddenly frail at dinner
and lunch in September, but also, of course, everlasting. But
that is doubtless because that is what we lesser mortals need
him to be. I found a Meryl Streep quote – ‘He was responsible
for igniting people’s dreams.’ And he joyously kept that flame
alight in so many.

25 November
7.30 Fundraiser for Stephen Kinnock13 – standing for
Aberavon. So good to see Glenys and Neil and a pity that
Stephen has yet to acquire their microphone skills. Just reading
your script won’t do . . .

18 December
SOUTH AFRICA.
 Walking back from First Beach to Fourth Beach, past the
fashion shoots and the toe-stubbing rocks and cold-drink sellers
and the massage on the beach canopies and the lifeguards under
their shelter, and the gulls bobbing, then back again past all of
that in reverse. But the sea just kept doing absolutely its own
thing We are specks in its eye.

31 December
Blazing hot day on the beach. We escaped to the V&A
Waterfront [shopping mall], but it is one of those days when it
is too hot outside, too warm inside. A beer, a Coke, a
tangerine.
1
He didn’t.
2
British actor (1984–)
3
English osteopath (1912–1963), prominent in the Profumo affair
4
A Curious Career
5
British playwright (1951–2014)
6
Barbara and Rik Mayall’s children
7
English actor (1956–)
8
American painter and filmmaker (1951–)
9
Adam James, English actor (1962–)
10
American comedian, director and actor (1932–)
11
American film producer (1958–)
12
Cellist and composer (1987–)
13
Labour politician (1970–), son of Glenys and Neil Kinnock
 2015
SOUTH AFRICA – GERALDINE McEWAN – PARIS –
RUBY WAX – HELENA KENNEDY – GLASGOW – ZOË
WANAMAKER – MELBOURNE – MIRIAM
MARGOLYES – RICHARD ATTENBOROUGH’S
MEMORIAL SERVICE – PRAGUE – KATH VINER –
PARIS – CAMPAGNATICO – NEW YORK – LOS
ANGELES – BLOOD TESTS – GOODWOOD RACES –
FALL – BLOOD TRANSFUSION – NEW YORK –
HARLEY STREET – LINDSAY DUNCAN AND HILTON
McRAE

2 January
And what did I eat last night? Apart from too much. A stomach
upset to start the New Year.

4 January
6am – after dreaming of a house in the English countryside . . .
10am Bianca comes to give 3 of us a massage. Fast asleep at
one point. ‘Get your legs up more,’ she says. ‘Because of
swelling?’ I say. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Statins,’ I say.
4pm Down to the beach – Indian Ocean warm, but wind
and waves to knock you senseless. We walked, instead, looking
for oystercatchers.

5 January
Grey skies, rough seas. No swimming today, methinks.
9am Croissants and coffee together. Then start at the
suitcases, trying to will them to be lighter. Forget it.
5.30 Liza drives us to the airport. The unending mass of
Khayelitsha [township] on our left.

7 January
A start to the Great Clear Out. This may take some time.
Later today – emails giving a rough guide to ALC tours,
press junkets and premieres. In theory, there is time to spread in
Australia, and time on the West Coast if there is no
compunction to hare back for the Dublin FF [film festival].

11 January
3.30 To visit Geraldine [McEwan]. Takes a while to find her,
and even then I almost walked past her bed. It was shocking
and strange to see that engaged, curious, youthful energy so
drained of it all. A sleeping, grey form with her mouth down-
turned in sleep. When she woke, gently prompted by Thelma,
she looked at me, said ‘My God’ and stroked my face with her
right hand.

13 January
Now the cupboard-clearing. A career in a cupboard. What to
keep, what to dump. Finding letters that should not have been
so long lost. Seeing a shape – a shape punctuated by big
decisions and leaps into the dark.

15 January
Rima goes off to Barlby1 early. The Duchess of Cambridge is
coming today. The arch Republican and the Duchess . . .

23 January
To Paris.
Hôtel de l’Abbaye which has the smallest imaginable room.
But perfectly designed bathroom. And is a walk away from
Cherche Midi.

24 January
After breakfast, a walk down Cherche Midi and into Lilith [a
boutique] – still there.

25 January
To London. A swift change of tickets before breakfast, and a car
to Gare du Nord for the 12.40 → St Pancras.

27 January
7pm Ruby.
Some chicken, potatoes and salad and the horror story of her
trip to the US. I think she wanted an injection of old times.

28 January
Fischer’s.
Dinner w. Helena and Iain. So many topics to cover, you
have to snatch the odd conversational gap to get your oar in.
But H. and I. – a couple of major life forces covering a 3D
landscape, including Helena’s Christmas bust-up with Reggie
[Nadelson]. Who, frankly, was asking for it.

30 January
To New York.
Hardly in the door when Thelma calls to tell us that dear
Geraldine has died.

31 January
Rima’s birthday.
This morning I spoke to Claudia and Greg [G.McE.’s
children] and Lois [her assistant]. Lois tells of the irony of
speech therapists sitting at Geraldine’s bed talking their talk
(literally, I suppose). Lois gently handed over her phone with
Geraldine’s Wikipedia page on it. The nurse said ‘Oh, you used
to act. Oh, you were at the National Theatre!’ Geraldine said,
‘From the beginning.’

3 February
9 Bar Centrale w. Lily and Hamish. A Bar C. night, what with
Jake Gyllenhaal and Ruth Wilson at one table, Jagger sitting
behind them, Matthew Broderick coming in not far ahead of
Glenn Close, etc. But we four made our own fun, thank you.

9 February
To London.

11 February
Desk-clearing.
Sorting details for screening.
News from Australia that the screening has sold out and will
I do a second?
Focus [Features, distributors] still drumming their fingers
about the US release date.

17 February
11 To Sara Sugarman for the day out to her new home in
Sheerness. Which is like driving into a whole different world.
Cranes, old factories, chimneys in a wide, low Kent landscape,
odd houses dotted around – and suddenly, through a gate next
to a huge pile of containers, are two beautiful Georgian
terraces. Sara has a house in one, with a long swathe of garden,
and interesting neighbours – a view of the sea from the upstairs
windows. Her painter and decorator friends from Wales are
living in the house, painting it a wonderful palette of 18th C.
pastels. Glorious. Omelette and chips in a nearby pub with its
own gangplank down to the tide-out sea.

18 February
1pm Training Committee, RADA.
Constant sense of having to remind them that (1) I am an
actor (2) I am a director (3) I trained at RADA and therefore
(4) I don’t need a lecture. In fact, they should be asking me
stuff. But we plough on, hopefully.

19 February
9am Phone call w. Australia
All those miles away, and the same six questions . . .

21 February
Glasgow birthday.
9 & Heathrow Express.
11.30 → Glasgow and the Blythswood Square Hotel which
is kind of MDF chic. A bit of lunch and then 3pm grooming
followed by STV and print.
6pm Glasgow Film Festival – A Little Chaos.
Quick introduction and then to Two Fat Ladies with Allan
Hunter and Corinne Orton.2 Nice room, food too
complicated. Back to the cinema for the post-screening Q&A
which was actually enjoyable. Huge warmth from the audience.
Then back to the hotel to collect Sean B[iggerstaff], Alison
C[ampbell] & Andrew [Muir] to go for more dinner to the
excellent Ox and Finch in Sauchiehall Street. Almost collapsing
from tiredness at the table but good to hear such love for the
films – and a pavlova cake was sent out . . .

23 February
Sheekey’s w. Zoë and Gawn – and boy, can Zoë sink those
martinis, and boy, does she dominate the conversation when
she does. Gawn looks concerned, but lets her free, bless him.

24 February
2pm Geraldine’s funeral. All day I have been saying – truthfully
– that I haven’t processed the absence of Geraldine at all. It feels
like a mistake, that we were all there talking about her, eating
sandwiches and drinking prosecco. And even now, writing this
feels fake. Or maybe it is what one of the people there said –
that you feel as if some people in life should be excused . . .

27 February
I googled Jerome Ehlers3 to see what he had been up to lest we
could say hi in Australia. He died in August last year. Tall,
skinny, funny, romantic Jerome . . . More not fair.
The rest of the day was at home packing. Going to the
cleaner’s. Fish pie for supper. Watching Gogglebox watching
Wolf Hall. Failing to sleep much.

28 February
Melbourne via Singapore.
On the way out pick up a Harper’s Bazaar with Kate looking
straight at me on the cover.
Watched Maps to the Stars and Julianne Moore, doubtless
great in Still Alice, is brilliant in this, a role that would have the
Academy voters reaching for their sick bags. Fearless,
inspirational Cronenberg. And a portrait of this insane
profession – no, the insane abuse of it by what Mike Leigh calls
the numbskulls that makes you think of stepping back, way
back.

2 March
Melbourne.
After fitful sleep, we eventually got up around 11am. Some
coffee, and with Lonely Planet in hand, did the tour of
Melbourne lanes, and wound up neatly at Chin Chin for lunch
where we boldly had their Jungle Curry – or rather, half of it,
since the burning mouths would go no further. The paths led
naturally to the riverbank by Federation Square (Melbourne has
a lovely energy, but terrible architecture) and took the 3.30
ferry up the Yarra and back.

7 March
4pm Miriam Margoyles at The Script.
Miriam, who lives her life and speaks her thoughts as they
happen. Here and now. The show isn’t very good. She is away
too much from her partner. Been together 43 years. Israel
deserves to be hated. All over a coffee in the street.

12 March
7pm A Little Chaos screening. Watching from the back, on the
stairs, and oh God, here we go – the let’s get back to the
editing room sensation. The audience are very warm, though,
and they seem to have a good time during the Q&A, which is
the same five questions only longer.

15 March
1pm → Sydney Airport.
4.10 → Singapore.

16 March
London.
Somewhere around 3am watched Gemma Bovery. Beautifully
judged version of the Posy Simmonds’ cartoon.
Landed at 5am, sped through the dark streets and home
around 6am. The usual pile of stuff on the kitchen table, but
nothing broken, touch wood. Unpacked, answered mail,
fielded press requests.

17 March
12 Westminster Abbey.
Richard Attenborough’s memorial.
A rather unique sensation wandering up the central aisle of
that church, crammed as it was on both sides, and through the
nave into the choristers’ section and altar to find a seat.
Between, as it turned out, Evelyn de Rothschild4 and Lady
Annabel Goldsmith.5 He with no sense of anyone else’s space,
she with her arm in a sling. I could have wished to be thinner.
Thelma opposite, along with Judi & Finty [J.D.’s daughter],
Michael & Shakira Caine, Ken B. to my right, the
Attenborough family in the choir stalls. Puttnam had the only
jokes, Ben K. read Gandhi as if he’d written it and I dropped
my seating card which E. de R. pointed at, helpfully. Dickie
would have loved the music & showbiz of it all. Not sure about
all the religion. Went off to the Delaunay for lunch with the
Suchets and Sara Kestelman.6

18 March
9am Stephen Waley-Cohen7 who, somewhat to my surprise,
invites me to become President of RADA. Some instant
instinct makes me decline. ‘You need someone with a higher
profile.’ ‘You underestimate yourself,’ says Stephen. The
resistance, of course, is to being devoured by the Establishment.

19 March
Prague.
5.30 pick-up → Heathrow.
7.20 To Prague.
Walked across the Charles Bridge and then had lunch on a
terrace looking at the river. The rest of the day was a blur,
partly because of the endless, blinding flash bulbs as dozens of
photographers popped away – pictures that will go nowhere.
Press conference, TV interview, getting the award, intro x 2
cinemas for ALC, backroom (serious jet lag now) party in
staggering municipal hall and the treat of seeing J.-J. A. after 30
years, and of meeting Kim Novak – an interesting, interested
delight. ‘Jimmy Stewart and I just played together.’

21 March
Up at 6am. Pack, coffee, iPad and great news – Kath Viner is
the new editor of the Guardian!!! Breakfast at 8am and off to
the airport at 8.40 for the 11am → London, on which ‘Can I
get a picture?’ assumes a new low. People queuing to sit down
behind a man who is not taking no for an answer. He now has
a picture of his grinning face leaning over two seats, somehow
adjacent to my pissed-off one.
22 March
A day of a kind of internal collapse, a mixture of aeroplanes, jet
lag & depression from days of eating one’s own flesh in
interviews that have no real motor.

24 March
1pm Goring Hotel.
‘How We Met’ interview and photo shoot for the
Independent w. Helen McCrory. Helen as good-humoured as
ever, the photographer, Ben, also – although alarm bells are
ringing from make-up and publicist about the lighting. Then
Adam J[acques] shows up to do the interviews and clearly has
his ideas in place, and tries to bend us to his questions . . . After
we have finished, downstairs for lobster omelette.

2 April
Watching the 2-hour [general election] debate on TV, in which
Ed didn’t disgrace himself, but Nicola Sturgeon walked off
with it as I knew she would. Heart to mouth connection.

7 April
2.30 National Theatre.
Tom Stoppard’s The Hard Problem.
An hour and forty minutes in the dark. A young – mostly –
cast that has no idea what they are saying, or why, and so
emotion is wiped across the lines in order to make it
‘interesting’. Who is to blame for this?

10 April
Paris and back.
5.40am. Finally, I guess, hearing the alarm and knowing that
there will be a car outside at 6am. Made it, somehow.
8 St Pancras, and Lorna Mann, Lionsgate publicist, and
Eurostar to Paris and a car to the Hyatt Vendôme Hotel. About
an hour in the very swish and beige suite they have given me
and then Kelly, groomer, arrives, English – in France for 8
years, married to a Frenchman, missing London. Then to TV
interviews, lunch with the ebullient Sammy H., the distributor.
Print interviews, finishing at 4.20. So really? Why stay?
Hightailed it to Gare du Nord and got the 6.40 home.

11 April
8 Dalia and Dexter for dinner with Hugh Jackman,
Christopher Walken, Taron Egerton,8 Iris Berben9 and Jamie
Oliver. With a Lithuanian cook. Yep. That was the evening that
was . . .

17 April
The early morning silence that I know well from the past.
Eventually something from Paul. We have a fight on our
hands . . . People love it. Critics – some won’t go there. One, I
would hazard, wrote his review before he’d seen it.
3pm Car → Broadcasting House. Edith Bowman & James
King [Radio 1 presenters]. Kermode and Mayo interview. And
those are two of the positive voices.
8.10 → Curzon, Mayfair, for a Q&A after the screening.
‘This film is so beautiful’ is the refrain.

24 April
EN ROUTE NEW YORK HAVING BEEN IN BERLIN
AND VIENNA.
Hanging about in the Concorde Room for the 5.05 to
Newark. And it’s clear what has been deflected and on hold as
well as totally enveloping – a deep sense of quiet crumbling
inside, which re-assembles every now and then and will re-
form, but into what? Not sure. This [A Little Chaos] is the kind
of work I make. If I am to be disallowed then – I just stop. But
as I write that, it feels like the wrong response. But some energy
has to come towards me, otherwise I am emptied.
25 April
7.30 White House Correspondents’ Dinner.
2000 people at the Hilton Hotel and find Kath & the others
– Guardian staff, Chris Ofili [artist], David Tennant and wife.
Obama and Michelle were dots on the horizon that was the
top table, but there was excellent people-watching. Al Jazeera
announced themselves as fans. ‘I like you, too.’ ‘You do?
Everyone here thinks we’re terrorists.’
We were a very enjoyable table even including the elephant
in the room – my film.

28 April
BAM. Karen Brooks Hopkins10 tribute concert.
8.30 A real, unexpected thrill to introduce Martha
Wainwright & of course Rufus. They sang a duet that was
written by their mother, Kate, that was heart-stopping. Some
great dancers, a huge Brooklyn choir, Paul Simon, on screen,
singing ‘Homeward Bound’ and – acute for me – ‘Time It
Was’ [better known as ‘Bookends’]. Laurie Anderson – on
screen – playing a ravishing violin solo. A beautiful tribute to
amazing Karen.

11 May
7am → Paddington.
Where – no explanation, apologies, just guards with their
backs turned, one of them even smiling – trains are cancelled
and eventually we set off at 7.40. Panicked calls to Melanie &
BA and it all turns out to be OK. We got checked in and down
to the gate 5 mins before boarding.
Mario is at Pisa – gloriously sunny and hot Pisa – and under
2 hours of his chat we arrive at Campagnatico. Which is
beginning to resemble the Mary Celeste. And over supper, we
both gaze at the sunset and the possibility of letting this part of
our lives go. Hmmm.
14 May
A walk around the village after a long, slow breakfast. The walk
has been opened up now. The resting tractor halfway down the
hill tells all.

18 May
Into the town square to say hello to Antonio and buy lamp
bulbs, a torch, citronella candles. To wave a wand – give us six
months in the village, a bit of activism on behalf of the defunct
terrace – letting Gabi and Servilio’s restaurant and cafés in the
square . . . the village would live again.

20 May
Pack. Clear up. Wash up. Load up the car.
9.30 off to Pisa.

21 May
11.30 Dr Reid’s nurse yells your name into the waiting room at
loud-hailer pitch, but then takes blood with hardly a scratch or
ouch, and never misses the vein.

26 May
Brussels.
12 Car → St Pancras.
Find Katy (Lionsgate rep) and in Brussels → Hotel Amigo.
Print interviews until 2pm and then dinner with the
distributors.
9.20 To the cinema for the Q&A. Total blackness with a spot
glaring at me. A long loud hello from the audience. To me?
The film they have just watched? Bed at 2am.

27 May
The Hague and Amsterdam.

28 May
Amsterdam.
10 Dutch press day. Getting pretty tired now and am
dumbstruck at a journalist who says she thought it clear that I
saw the story as an allegory about the banking crisis . . .
5pm → The Rijksmuseum.
Vermeer’s woman pouring milk and the Rembrandt self-
portrait & the portrait of Titus are the stop-you-in-your-tracks
pictures.

29 May
London.
7.30 Barbican.
Hamlet last week.
Tonight – Kafka on the Shore which, having found Edna,
both of us thought was going to be Kafka-esque, rather than
about a boy called Kafka. Some memorable images, as always,
float past.
The Delaunay w. Thelma and Edna and Seamas Milne
(Thelma’s nephew).11

1 June
A tour around some of the available properties in Marylebone,
Notting Hill, Holland Park, Chelsea and one on the river all,
hilariously, in the £3–4½m range. None of them suitable for
one reason or another. One of them, connected to the
Southwark agent, was actually in Bermondsey Street
(requested) and is unforgettable. A stockbroker from the US,
now moved to Monaco, has created a nightclub out of 5 rooms
one on top of another, circular staircase linking them, pool
table on the top floor, hot tub (of course) on the terrace.
Madness, everywhere.

5 June
8.50 Jonathan Mount [estate agent].
 And out to Clerkenwell and Shoreditch we go. Some
beautiful streets here – but you have to come back on a Friday
and Saturday night for a reality check.

7 June
To New York.

8 June
9 Window cleaning.
Rather them than me, with their belts and clip-on hooks
keeping them safe.

9 June
12 Steve, TV. The new remote is an instant improvement, and I
let him persuade us to a new DVD player & Netflix.

16 June
Joe Neumaier – Daily News.
One of the smartest interviews I have ever done. With really
good questions.

21 June
Los Angeles.
10.15 Car to JFK.
Nelson takes us on the pretty route – all along the river,
down to almost Staten Island. An hour, but a New York I had
not seen. At one point, some tower blocks that looked like a
Soviet complex.
6 A.O.C. (Where Oros used to be . . .) Dinner w. Marcia
Firesten. Why is everything changing for the worse? This
restaurant holds so many happy memories from what seemed
like golden days in LA – lunches, dinners, the Beverly Center,
Fred Segal’s [clothing store], sunshine and looking forward.
Tonight – food OK, service pushy and customers that are
unpindownable.
22 June
9.30 LA Times interview (Susan King) and photograph among
the plants. Hard work getting her to mine any new territory.
The mind was made up . . .

29 June
10 Sycamore Kitchen.
Breakfast then a drive to Canyon, Mulholland and Santa
Monica. Reacquainting. But a pain in the left arch & calf is
nagging, so walking is tough.
7ish Marcia collects me and → 3, 2, 1 (No) so noisy.
Escaped across the road to Mozza who had some Sesti Rosso
and fine food. On the way, I mentioned the leg pains. Marcia is
on to it, making an appointment with the podiatrist and
checking with Bart.

30 June
10am phoner to Brazil and then – podiatrist, cardiologist,
ultrasound, blood tests – and yes, there is/are blood clots, but
small ones in the non-scary veins. Still scary, though, to hear
the words thrombosis, clots, change plans etc.

1 July
5pm to LAX.
Dinner in the Qantas/BA lounge. On to the plane at 9pm
and – ALC is showing . . . just to remind me from whence I
come. But a sleeping pill takes care of everything.

2 July
Home around 5pm to watch Nadal lose at Wimbledon, sadly,
but his OCD behaviour could actually be getting in his way
now, especially against someone like Dustin Brown who plays
from his fingertips, his imagination. So free and unfettered by
anything, it seems.
 Nothing seemed too wrong in the house on arrival. But wait
– yes, the smoke alarm is beeping downstairs and we haven’t a
clue. Called the fire service. They came and – we thought –
dealt with it. Come bedtime, the beep is back. Took the cover
off, still it beeped. Twice. Then surrendered.

3 July
Appointment made w. haematologist. This crazy-paving diary
has that in it today, plus watching Heather Watson nearly
become a Wimbledon legend (but play brilliantly, anyway), find
batteries for the smoke alarm, answer a mad array of emails,
look out the window at sunshine all day, and a torrential storm
as we went to bed . . .

6 July
The Wimbledon Days. Which keep you strapped to the sofa
convinced, of course, that if you change your position, the
heeby jeebies will make Andy Murray’s next ball go out.

7 July
3pm St Mary’s.
Dr Shlebak who does the blood tests and gives me a
prescription. 3 months of a different pill every day. Blood
thinners.

9 July
7.30 Guildhall.
Guys and Dolls.
More like 7.45 when we got there given the tube-strike
traffic . . . But there were all those familiar tunes to guide us in.
Afterwards, Marina12 said she now knows she never wants to
do another musical – ‘It’s all tits and teeth.’ With these young
actors, though, it’s the heightened reality, the ruthless picking
up of cues, the squad-like entrances and exits that marks the
genre.
13 July
2.45 The Wellingon [Hospital].
As instructed. And tested.

14 July
5.30 Dr Landau, Harley Street.
A different kind of diary now.13
7.45 36 Phone Calls.14
For instant deflection and a chatty time in the bar afterwards
w. Jeremy B. and friends.
At home, later, capsizing.

15 July
Falling asleep all day, with instant small dreams.
Emails batting away at each other. Take the pills, don’t, talk
to this person, get permission for them to talk to another . . .

16 July
12 To Ovington Gardens.
An apartment with 3 terraces but it feels like suburbia comes
to the Brompton Road. Great to be so close to the V&A, the
Park and all that, but views of London whilst suffocating . . .?

17 July
8.30 35 Weymouth Street [Hospital].
New faces, one after another, all day. Thank God for the one
loving constant.
And somewhere in the pm a pot of hummus and some
vegetable sticks was heaven.

19 July
And off to the Wellington we go – as dinner was being
prepared – for some ‘in case’ ultrasounds. White, white room,
white lights, we try to watch the second episode of Outcast.
Came back and ate dinner.

20 July
2pm 93 Harley Street.
David Landau introduces us to Tobi (Dr) Arkenau who I like
a lot.

22 July
9.30 Platinum Medical Centre (PMC).15
First session.

24 July
8 Fischer’s w. Ron and Karen Bowen and us. Good choice.
Bratwurst (gentle veal and chicken), sauerkraut, potato salad,
horseradish, cucumber salad. And two of our oldest friends
who can talk about the past like the adventure it was.

26 July
12 Melanie Parker comes to start the removals and storing.
Boxes come, boxes go. We are talking about Eden, her
daughter, who is autistic (to some degree, but on the
spectrum), and of how smart and inventive she is. Inside all the
white Muji fileboxes are scripts, letters, notes, research on each
project I’ve been involved with. That’s my imagination in those
boxes.

29 July
9am PMC.
9.30 Dr Arkenau.
10am The car waiting at the corner takes us calmly and
punctually to Goodwood races, another first. The main reason
for being there – presenting the Sussex Stakes Cup – is
switched by the Sheikh of Qatar, and I wind up going down
with the CEO of the Savoy Hotel to present the following
race’s prizes with him. Weird. But lunch was very enjoyable.

30 July
20 Montagu Square.
To look at Flat 1 again. After the weeks gone by, this really is
the perfect place in the middle of a beautiful square and a 10
min walk to Marylebone High Street via coffee shops,
cleaner’s, a greengrocer, with a farmers’ market and Waitrose
waiting.

31 July
And now WT becomes an edit suite. Of itself. Every drawer,
cupboard and shelf to be diluted, stored or given away. Space
for a new set of starting blocks.

2 August
Cilla Black.16
I feel like we grew up together. She was the best of us, but
standing next to The Beatles. And her instincts were powerful.
She knew she was a star, but she carried self-respect alongside
directness and simplicity. It was good to sit down with her at
Mel’s that Saturday night, and feel only that I wish I had
known her better.

5 August
9.30 PMC.
Second session.
Home at 3.30pm. The repetition means an easier response or
would do if one medication didn’t fight another.

6 August
The days of trying to steer around yourself whilst behaving
normally because there are cupboards to be emptied and boxes
to be filled. Still.

7 August
1.30 Montagu Square w. Caroline [estate agent]. And yes, it is
going to be a different way of being in London. But Caroline
and I tick away together and edit ideas in and out (don’t make a
garden room, do redo the bathrooms, our own bed could work
just fine & maybe upstairs sofa bed) and so on.

10 August
Another cupboard cleared. Impatient for cupboard boxes now.
The flat is getting used to the air blowing through it.

12 August
Horrifying to realise that so much stuff just gathers itself around
you, especially if you have as much storage as we have.
Cupboards & shelves full of efficiently filed things we never
look at.

13 August
7pm Moorfields Eye Hospital.
Mr Mutiq who is fast and expert and charming. And the
recent white flashing in the right eye is, indeed, about getting
older, or macular degeneration, I think he said. Home to a
suitable fish pie.

14 August
To Harvey Nichols. Their food hall is now hopeless. Good to
know. But we found the right piece of cashmere for Jane.
7.30 Jane Bertish’s birthday.
30 friends gathered to surprise someone who would hate it.
‘Did I pull a face?’ said Jane, later. And it was a sweet gathering
of friends. Until I fell down the step into the garden patio just
as the cake’s candles were being lit. Time to go home.

15 August
After a pasta and salad supper we watched Funny Girl which
Rima had never seen. Apart from Streisand reminding me what
a great actress she is, I was hooked by the craft of William
Wyler – his pacing and cutting, just nudging you along by a
finger, or a hand or a wrist.

17 August
More boxes filled and a fleeting thought about the fact that I
haven’t looked at this stuff forever, and now it’s going from
shelf to a box. The bins outside the bedroom window have a
tempting air. But then again, editing is going on, and files are
being condensed. So maybe there’s another stage, in the storage
hold.

18 August
11 Solicitors.
Margaret Lang (will specialist) is in charge of us, and she
probes and nudges us towards some sense of the shape of
things. (After Stephen Wegg-Prosser [solicitor] has done the
same re house purchase . . .)

29 August
The office looks like a bomb has hit it, paper thrown
everywhere, amidst the sound of ripping, as Rima lightens the
file load.
Upstairs, a deep breath and the same is happening to all the
saved recipes. Now they are in ordered piles. Maybe we will
actually use more than 12 of them.

31 August
8pm Locanda Locatelli.
For an anniversary dinner.
You have to pick your food carefully. Tuna salad means cubes
of rather chewy, hot tuna in a pool of borlotti bean purée
(stranger still when you eat it) and the portion of kid goat
would have fed quite a few shepherds. I can’t quite pin down
the clientele, either. But you can hear, and the lighting is on the
food, not the faces. And we were home in 5 minutes.

2 September
9.30 PMC.
Very beautiful email about ALC from Tom Tykwer. A good
director understands every nuance of what was being aimed for.
What world is this that we try to function in?

3 September
9am For a touch of normality, the men who service the steam-
room are due. And apparently, all is OK.
Spent the day alternately sticking Rima’s recipe books
together again, and in some kind of order. The chaos is
resumed in watching hellish scenes from Budapest station [of
refugees] on the news, and the equally hellish vision of
watching the prime minister as he attempts to float his little
boat on the perceived tides of UK public opinion. Easy, of
course, for Nicola Sturgeon to take the high moral ground, but
Cameron should, of equally course, seize it.

7 September
8.30 Waiting to go to PMC and the floor came up to meet me
. . .17

9 September
To the Wellington Hospital.

15 September
Back home.

17 September
2.30 Physiotherapist.
Who clearly knows what she is doing, but has an ever-
present laugh. I decide to look her seriously in the eye
whenever she laughs.

19 September
4pm Margaret Heffernan and her husband Lindsay.
Who brought a book about the Eames brothers and a poetry
book called 40 Sonnets. Our friends are so solicitous – as in
kind and courteous.
8pm Ruthie/River Cafe takeaway.
And more solicitousness from Ruthie and the River Cafe.
Lamb, vegetables, proscuitto, mozzarella & tomato, almond
cake, lemon cake, raspberries, figs, peas & miniature plums.

21 September
12 Liz – speech therapist.
Who is a little scatter-brained and all-inclusive, but tells me
to read more.
2pm Allan Corduner calls by with some chocolates and good
cheer.

23 September
9am PMC.
3.30 Sara Sugarman.
Sitting on the sunny terrace with some Ottolenghi chocolate
biscuits and a cup of tea, talking about Sara’s happiness in
Sheerness, and her upcoming trip to Galilee, and her birthday
in Istanbul. Life throws up such opportunities when you put
out a hand, or take the chance.

2 October
7.30 Scott’s.
Valerie Amos,18 Forest Whitaker and Waheed Alli.19

3 October
4pm Tea w. Ian McKellen and Frances Barber and Sean
M[athias] & friend from the US.

5 October
12 To Montagu Square.20

7 October
PMC.

9 October
5pm Leila and Danny.
A walk to the Park & the ducks, and back for tea.

11 October
A walk to the now super-sized Waitrose and back.

12 October
A day at home.

13 October
2 Arbutus.
Lunch.

21 October
PMC.

22 October
9 PMC.
Blood transfusions.
7.30 Marcia Firesten’s birthday.

23 October
8 Colony Grill w. John Hart.

24 October
11.30 Sarah, Andy & the kids.
7.30 Dena Hammerstein at Ruby & Ed’s.

26 October
At home all day.

4 November
9 PMC.

5 November
Packing for tomorrow.

6 November
4 → New York.

7 November
7.30 BAM – Wendy & David’s21 show?

8 November
Standard [hotel] for breakfast and then to the Whitney –
Archibald Motley – the most wonderful, vibrant show.

23 November
11am Picasso sculpture show at MoMA.
2pm Alan W. and Peter K.
5pm M. E. [Mastrantonio] & Pat O’C[onnor].
In bed by 11.

24 November
Ready for the 4.30 alarm call.
5.30 car to JFK.

25 November
9.30 PMC.
26 November
9.30 Harley Street.

27 November
1pm Chiltern Firehouse w. Judy Hoflund, Tom, Charlotte &
Rosemary.

29 November
7.30 Edna – The Wolseley.

30 November
2pm RADA.
Recording Glenn Gould.22

9 December
9 PMC.

10 December
10[am] 18 Devonshire Street [clinic].

11 December
6.30 Siân Thomas.
Conor & Siobhan.
52 Dean Street [clinic].

12 December
12.30 Shoreditch Town Hall.
2.30 Dead Dog in a Suitcase.23
7.30 Lindsay & Hilton.
* * *
Alan’s last diary entry was on 12 December, but he had been
getting weaker and writing less for some time. All through the
autumn he had been getting more tired, eating less and often
feeling sick. But we continued to do most of the things that
had always been part of our life. We saw films and plays, met
friends, went out to dinner or entertained at home. And Alan
still did some work, although the film projects that he had been
attached to had had to be abandoned.
Alan also spent a lot of time sitting on the sofa and watching
TV – his two favourite programmes at that time were Don’t Tell
the Bride and Say Yes to the Dress.
Our trip to New York in November was very important. To
stay in our flat again, attend the memorial for Mike Nichols
and see so many of the friends who had meant so much to us
over the years. Alan loved New York.
He went downhill after that. By mid-December it was clear
that things were getting bad. He was often in pain, very weak
and sleeping a lot. We both knew that he probably had months
rather than years but still hoped that the chemotherapy would
work and maybe stabilise the tumour. So we continued with
plans for Christmas and New Year – Christmas was meant to
be with our good friend Sara Sugarman, and others, at her
beautiful house in Sheerness. And New Year was going to be in
Norfolk.
By 19 December I was convinced that Alan needed to be in
hospital, but we had invited his brother David and wife Chris
for lunch that day and arranged to see Zoë in a play that
evening. And Alan, being Alan, despite being in pain, would
not let them down. But I did manage to talk to our consultant
who agreed that Alan would be admitted the following
morning. He was.
He never left the hospital after that. We soon knew that our
Christmas plans were out (various friends and family came in
that day). I think it was obvious to all of them that things were
serious. Alan still had hopes for New Year and on New Year’s
Eve sent me home to pack, but when I returned with our two
little suitcases it was clearly not going to happen. He was far
too weak.
 New Year’s Eve was odd. I was there during the day, but
Alan was sleepy so I left about 8. He told me the next day that
he awoke at 11.50 and was able to watch the fireworks on TV.
The last two weeks of Alan’s life were extraordinary. It was
clear that he was dying. Our consultant told us that he had
been so bad that it could have happened before Christmas. But
there was nothing more that they could do other than
preventing him from being in pain. Which they did.
During these last two weeks Alan’s room was turned into a
salon. Belinda had produced a table-top Christmas tree, Emma
brought in a standard lamp, cushions and a throw to cover the
sofa. And an infuser. Miranda added a window bird-feeder. I
was asked to bring in a beautiful table lamp from home.
Different friends came in each day. Sometimes, Alan told me
who he wanted to see. Otherwise, they just came in. There was
often a lot of laughter. Alan was in bed but always a major
voice in the proceedings.
And, in conjunction with our dear friend, interior designer
Caroline Holdaway, he planned the décor of the new flat that
we were buying. He even added the instruction ‘and you’d
better put in a bloody cat flap’. She did.
He designed his own funeral. Ian Rickson (theatre director)
was put in charge. Alan chose where it would take place, who
would speak and what music would be played. Ian and I sat by
the bed while he decided which part of his own work he
wanted shown.
He was surrounded by people who loved him and up until
13 January was still in control of everything that was going on
around him. But he wasn’t there after that, and he died at 9.15
in the morning of 14 January 2016. I was there. He wasn’t in
pain. He just went.
Alan had six months between diagnosis and death, which is
typical for pancreatic cancer where the average is three months,
because there is currently no diagnostic test and the symptoms
are so non-specific (I have become a trustee of Pancreatic
Cancer UK in the hope that we can raise money to fund
research to develop the diagnostic testing that might have saved
Alan’s life).
But to continue, several friends came in that day: Ruby,
Helena, Emma, Tara and niece Sarah, and that evening
everyone gathered at Ruby’s house. Many friends, many
memories, many tears and so much else.
Alan was cremated on the morning of 3 February with close
friends and family present. The funeral service was held that
afternoon in The Actors Church in the heart of London’s
theatre district. Ian directed a stellar cast, which included J.K.
Rowling. Megan Dodds performed a piece from My Name Is
Rachel Corrie. The chosen music was ‘Uptown Funk’ and ‘Take
It with Me’ by Tom Waits. The only piece of Alan’s work was
from Peter Barnes’ Revolutionary Witness. We finished with
everyone singing ‘The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore’.
Then, in keeping with tradition, the Reverend Richard Syms
asked us to give Alan ‘one last wonderful standing ovation’.
Rima Horton
1
Primary school in North Kensington. Rima is chair of the governors.
2
Respectively, the co-director and then producer of Glasgow Film Festival
3
Australian actor and writer (1958–2014)
4
British financier (1931–)
5
English socialite (1934–)
6
English actor (1944–)
7
English theatre owner-manager (1946–)
8
Welsh actor (1989–)
9
German actor (1950–)
10
President Emerita of the Brooklyn Academy of Music
11
And a Guardian journalist and political aide
12
Marina Bye (1993–), daughter of Ruby Wax and Ed Bye
13
It is at this point that A.R. learns he has pancreatic cancer.
14
Play by Jeremy Brock
15
A.R. begins regular appointments for chemotherapy. Concerned that this would
result in hair loss, he is given a tightly-fitting ice cap – a helmet-like hat filled with a
cold gel – that can prevent this. In the event, it proved unnecessary.
16
She had died the day before.
17
He had had a stroke. Rima called 999 and an ambulance arrived within minutes.
He was taken first to University College Hospital then to the National Hospital for
Neurology. Within a day or two he had recovered, his speech was back to normal
and he was able to walk to Carluccio’s. Close friends and relatives were now told
how ill he was.
18
Labour peer Baroness Amos (1954–)
19
Labour peer Baron Alli (1964–)
20
He pressed on with plans to purchase Montagu Square, viewing it with his friend
Caroline Holdaway. It took around six months to complete the deal; A.R. never
spent a night there.
21
American ballet dancer Wendy Whelan (1967–) and American choreographer
David Neumann (1965–)
22
A.R. narrated a video for the Glenn Gould Foundation.
23
Musical, written by Carl Grose and directed by Mike Shepherd
APPENDIX: The Early Diaries
Alan Rickman kept occasional diaries from around 1974 to 1982 and
then again, more fulsomely and regularly, from 1993 to the end of his
life. What follows is a selection of extracts from those early diaries,
which begin after he had graduated from RADA in 1974 and chart
his work with the Birmingham Repertory Theatre, Bristol Old Vic
and the Royal Shakespeare Company, among others.

c. 1974
Fine acting always hits an audience with the force and oneness
of the well-aimed bomb – one is only aware of the blast or
series of blasts at the time – afterwards you can study the
devastation or think about how a bomb is made. And yet no
analogy suffices – the chemistry is too variable to construct an
equation: an actor is about the only artist whose instrument is
himself. And his instrument is not just for practice and
performance – he has to place and use it in his life, too; has to
construct a life in which to practise and present that
instrument, and his only means is the instrument himself.
Menuhin sounds a gong for dinner, he doesn’t play it on his
Stradivarius. The Stradivarius is polished and locked away in
velvet. The actor’s instrument is fed intermittently and travels
on tube-trains in the rush hour. Fine acting is a bloody miracle
of chance, the most fragile blending of time, mood, talent and
trust. Too often, all we present is an attempted repeat of a hazy
memory of the once we thought we almost made it.
*
More and more I think you’ve either got it or you haven’t.
What you can be taught is the recognition of having it and the
attendant responsibility, or how best to cope without it. And
that depends on whether the teacher has it or not. It’s self-
generating. The more you have, the more you seem to acquire,
but unlike money, you don’t know where it came from in the
first place, and if you think you do, you haven’t got it anyway.
Manchester, March 1975
At one stage, here, there was a danger that my confidence had
been crushed. Somehow, the experience has been survived and
I stand now in a position of arrogant strength. Everything I
believe in has been thickly reinforced, not through example so
much as the lack of it. People here say all the right things and
fail totally to put them on public display, because try as one
might it is well-nigh impossible to ‘do’ this thing we’re engaged
in – it needs many boring old-fashioned things like application
and discipline to be in any sense revolutionary – their
complacency breeds only blindness. In the end, they don’t want
to see because it might bring them face to face with risk,
danger, challenge, honesty, daring and the beautiful simplicity
which comes from the act of giving yourself over to an image,
an idea, a character, a play, an audience.
*
Actors are no more innately neurotic than anyone else, but
from time to time their senses undergo an overhaul or two, and
thus cleansed they are sent out – back into the smog. Result:
neurosis. Even if they don’t get the overhaul, their possibilities
are nearer the surface than with most people. Result: neurosis.
(Fed through and by ego which is basically an unanswered
mental tension, anyway.)
Constant encouragement is the vital food.
*
You can look at the lines on the page for hours on end, watch
the meanings and inferences weaving in and out of the words.
Speak them and they’ve gone in an instance.

Leicester, August 1975

Type-casting is a deadly poison.
Acting can be one’s life, but that life must be rich enough to
support it.
 Fight the temptation to disappear into your own
subconscious.

Leicester, December 1975

Theatre is the only LIVING way to say here is you, here is me,
this is what we do to each other, this is what we could do to
each other. It is at once a celebration and a warning, a
reminder and an encourager. So if needs be make it a shop, a
bingo hall, a palace or a bus stop. Just make a strong but flexible
framework and fill it with the right spirit. See what a child
does with a box.
*
The thing inside me that keeps me going is like an arrow that
begins somewhere in my gut and pushes upwards into my
throat and brain. Other people call it self-confidence – but that
has not always been there, although the camouflages of doubt,
question, insecurity, laziness etc., have given it different shapes.
The blunts and blurs seem to have been mostly stripped away
now, and it thrusts upward while I’m trying to sort out some
kind of target.

Sheffield, January–May 1976

What do I say about this time? A crucial time. Three big parts1
which have elicited from me some welcome heights and some
fairly appalling depths. There must be a basic something which
is right because while keeping my mind as open as I can, things
are confirmed or developed – never changed (from
disillusionment or that creeping disease ‘it’s a job’).

July 1976
Piscean by birth – piscean in everything I think and do. My life
swims one way, my work the other and yet it’s the same breed.
The ever-present objectivity – the ‘once-remove’ – is
invaluable to me as an actor (for the most part – the great
danger is lack of surprise, but I recognise that) and disastrous in
relationships. Either I spend time keeping an even keel so as to
avoid obstacles, or I get knotted up with watching, waiting,
imposing. Will I ever just Let Be? Who puts this invisible
telefoto lens over my eyes? It helps me to see and it makes me
blind. What I enjoy as much as anything is to laugh from
somewhere way down inside. And that begins to be like buried
treasure.

Birmingham, October 1976

Sunday in Birmingham and a distracted sideways glance out of
the window. Two women crossing the street towards a row of
bollards on the other side, fronting a parade of shops. It
reminds me of so many days, particularly Sunday, spent in the
streets around my grandparents’ house, to all intents and
purposes alone in that tin-kicking way that makes a brick wall
become a thing of great comfort or menace – so deeply do you
look into it as you walk its length and breadth. And a flash of
knowledge comes with this. That curious sensation I remember
being with me all the time turns out not to be simple loneliness
although I’ve always felt ‘different’. It was just ‘waiting’. For
now to arrive.

May–June 1977
Birmingham–Liverpool–Zurich–Amsterdam–The Hague–
Rotterdam–Eindhoven–Cologne.

On the train to Bristol Old Vic, 1 September

Some opposing forces to think about while working.
The need to simultaneously hold on and let go.
The most inward emotions must move outwards.
*
This is my head. It thinks it talks it charms. It worries it laughs
it hurts. It has a hundred wonderful tricks. I am proud of it.
This is my body. It is funny-looking. It malfunctions. It
looks best in winter clothes. I have as little to do with it as
humanly possible. Lucky for my body that I need it to
chauffeur my head around. Otherwise out it would go.

Bristol Old Vic, November 1977

Finally, I came here driven either by fear or by unknown forces
who, hacking paths through the jungle ahead of me, were
unseen. None of the parts played here are approached with the
animal joy that may contain the dangers of preconceived ideas.
An agonising objectivity has been ever-present (and will prove
to have been invaluable). Laertes, Ma Ubu and Uriah are all
unfamiliar territories and bravery alone has not sufficed – I
need a guide to show me more rewarding routes, dangerous
scenery. God knows what the next ten years will bring, but
now I must seek out the experts; the brilliant, the open, the
challenging ones. To take my objectivity and willingness to
them and let them kick it up to the skies.

January 1978
The mere fact that it is difficult to write anything these days
indicates the watershed that has been my time in Bristol. Two
curiously conflicting qualities make themselves felt. One – a
numbness from the neck down through tapping the same
unstocked reservoir – that of blind aggression. Two – a still
more ruthless determination to be an ACTOR, not anybody’s
puppet, or at most walkie-talkie-doll. I am ultimately the
servant only of the play (that, however, implies generosity to
fellow actors and willing listener to directors) not of someone’s
distorted view of my offstage persona.

20 March 1978
This . . . is the first day with the RSC – a long ago dream. The
taxi ride to Euston was like seeing one’s life flash before the
eyes – typically, in danger of missing the train and almost the
last image of London was Stanhope2 where the dream was
conceived. Typically, too, the experience is already tempered
with too much disillusionment – yet again, you’re on your
own. Armoured for the fight. Which has something to do with
survival, but more with the added courage that a piece of
armour gives, towards the day when it can be flung off.
Hooray! And Hello! Free spirit. Somewhere between Caliban
and Ariel lies Ferdinand.

Antony & Cleopatra rehearsals, August

Ironic that this is a blank page. To look through this book after
the nightmares of the past few months is to wonder where I
got it all from. But to be working with Peter Brook makes up
for everything and crystallises all. The blank page is the same
one that I felt during the first weeks at art school and RADA.
In its emptiness it is rich with preconceptions smashed, naivety
regained. Space for freedom to make its mark and depart.
Days later . . . but now I see his vulnerability – he is an artist
in the purest sense and after eight years of building his own
canvases, he has been asked to use someone else’s colours,
someone else’s time scale. Do I sense some panic? A temptation
to block in those colours before the areas have been properly
defined. Maybe he needs encouragement too.

October 8 – Sunday before press night

There are bound to be yawning chasms of unanswered needs
with any production of a play as impossible as this one, but the
intense concentration and effort required over the last two
months to bring this company and play together, coupled with
the mounting pressure of Tuesday night, have brought a kind of
blindness in some crucial areas of the play. Crucial because they
are at the beginning and the end.
The above tortuous prose stems from what I have to
recognise as a severely unsettled state (conversations with Ruby
Wax late Sunday night). I have allowed myself to sink into a
state of almost unrelievable torpor, where my mind is quite
capable of leaving my body to fend for itself entirely. I offer
myself no surprises – danger is given a wide berth. Life
becomes a series of habits. That voice up there is screaming ‘stir
yourself ’. This must relate at least in part to the problem I am
having of getting the speeches past my lips – they are not in the
front of my brain, not present. I am an amalgam of nostalgia
and ambition. The present is what makes the link. Act.

21 May 1979
The dole queue, with the clock at 89 and me at 00, is the
present. The RSC is now the past. The future leers at me with
several faces. I gaze back, with arms folded and fists clenched.

Young Vic, London, July 1979 – after Desperately

Yours3
I doubt I could turn to directing permanently. Watching a first
night is like being eaten by piranhas while surrounded by
people taking no notice. No feedback, no release. But there are
muscles there asking for the exercise.

Nottingham, October 1979 – Antonio4

A sustained nightmare. But out of it comes the humble need
for a director. My third eye has had to grow such proportions
that it can now no longer focus on anything. The intense anger
has subsided somewhat and at odd moments I can ‘catch the
energy on its impulsive exits’ but my insecurity makes me
‘aware’ and therefore dampens it before it can really take me on
a journey. What I see clearest at the moment are shortcomings
and possibilities – the first in abundance and proximity, the
second hazy and far off.
In the midst of this was Thérèse Raquin [novel by Zola] – and
the warm sigh of relief at being surrounded by people who all
know what they are doing.

Citizens, Glasgow, January 1980

A new decade? Still a bit numb from declining the job I came
here wanting. But the arbiter was instinct which is some kind
of advance. Two other jobs are declined (1) out of respect for
my mental health and (2) my self-respect. In many ways I am
getting to recognise signs a little more clearly and obey them.
In this show I see my present hurdles in stronger focus, too.
 None of this stuff should be written in grey, watery, invisible
pencil. Looks too much like an apology.

Crucible, Sheffield, February 1980

My life begins to receive injections from this theatre, directly
and indirectly. It is good to feel the warm blood of optimism.
Having reread some of these pages, the last six years seem to
have been a journey towards confusion and some pretence. I’m
less ‘packaged’ but less idealistic. Having a ‘career’ means being
in the race. Nobody ever talked their way to the winning post.
Winning post? Stop trying to impress, to catch up. Lead.

The Bush, London, June 1980 – rehearsing

Commitments [by Dusty Hughes]
This book is full of ‘fateful moments’. One only hopes that the
hazy memory of them means that, in turn, they have
embedded themselves in the subconscious and that the last few
months have been fruitful.
The Devil Himself [by Severus Rogue] was a pleasure – the
pure pleasure of knowing that wonderful material can still feed
the imagination, and that added to a mutual trust between
performers (fragile as ever), curious magic can still be
confected.
The pleasure now is to work with Richard Wilson, who says
‘don’t act’, ‘behave’, and a hundred other things which for a
long time had only been murmurings from the drama school
days.

Kennedy Airport, September 1980

The sense bank should be heavily in credit now as I sit here
watching an ulcer grow. How differently a group of sights and
sounds can lift you. The time in New York is a mirror of its
page in the diary. Some lines of clarity and decision, many
crossings out and overlappings. Toronto was a release in some
ways, a reminder of an old and misunderstood trap in others.
But there was a relaxation which allowed me to see the
rainbow across the American Falls at Niagara – the yellow
plastic-coated creatures climbing their rickety staircase.
Kennedy Airport – chaos in flesh. Less civilised than those
Greek ferries of years ago. Microphones summon the same
person again and again to ‘the red courtesy phone’ – no seats
on the 9.15 flight – heart sinks – hopeful passengers ask the
same questions of ever-impatient attendants and muzak laughs
and laughs up its sleeve.

9 December 1980
The radio says John Lennon is dead . . . A lump of my past has
been removed. No, maybe more firmly placed. If you look for
it, and even like today when you don’t, life will tell you things.
Last night some theatre awards were shown on TV and I
wanted one of them – but with my teeth and fingernails I
wanted out. John Lennon’s death hits much harder and lower.
Just now it seems senseless – let it not be a waste. (I don’t want
to be forever observing my own feelings like this – but he had
the same groans: ‘How can I go forward when I don’t know
which way I’m facing?’)

Sleeper home from Edinburgh, August 30–31 1981 –

Brothers Karamazov
The ironies flowing from the above are infinite. Working with
Max Stafford-Clark followed by the indescribable rehearsal
period; playing another introvert but giving full vent to the
extrovert in me through unstoppable anger. Ultimately, the
memory of desolate lunchtimes on Brighton [where rehearsals
took place] beach, and opening to choruses of praise. There
may still be a real life to be found in this play. We’ll see.

Notes from Russia

1am, Moscow, 7 September
Grab your chances on a trip like this. A horrendous journey
which should have taken 3 hours – we arrived finally in our
bedroom at 5am Sunday. At 4am we were eating a supper
(packed) of 3 hard boiled eggs, 5 apples, soft soft cheese and
apple jam. Definitely signs of things to come, as the morning’s
breakfast of sausage and peas proved. Faced with a bleak Sunday
evening of nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to ask in
Moscow, we landed delightfully on our feet in the home of
Igor and Tanya & Tanya’s mother Flora. Good food, wine,
cognac, company and fun. Simple pleasures are the best.

Monday evening
Who needs to do anything but just listen to the Kagarlitskys?
Minds that have been quietly whizzing around the table for
years. He5 says that Brook doesn’t know what to say about the
world. ‘Sometimes history is difficult but heroic, today it is
difficult but shameful.’ Boris6 gives Russia 9 years before it
throws up its own Wałęsa.7

Thursday
State Institute of Performing Arts. A building swarming with
generosity. Students working together so completely that the
stage was filled with resonances, echoes and energy that no one
actor could ever create. So open it assaulted you and was really
very moving. A very different place from Moscow Arts. I could
and should have stayed for hours but the pressure of being a
tourist was too much and the coach vacuumed us in for lunch
and a trip to a monastery . . .

Leningrad Station, Moscow – waiting for the Night Train

Said au revoir to Lena, our interpreter – an extraordinary
woman. Black-eyed gypsy with a devastating line in
clairvoyancy. She describes herself as ‘hypnotic but lonely’. Also
says ‘You need her loyalty & patience but don’t expect all of her
love, she can’t give it. She’ll always be able to take care of
herself. When you are cruel, she may say nothing but she
remembers everything. When you fall in love, which is often, it
lasts longer than with most people but you are suspicious &
jealous in love . . .’
 The train ride was enjoyable, hateful, interesting, funny, sad
& freezing ultimately. Nothing else matters much when you are
cold.

Leningrad – after performing Karamazov

The ‘bravos’ lessened by having heard so many of them last
night at the Kirov . . . Went through the motions somewhat at
the Youth Theatre (Sunday). They were however displaying
some open interest in us, which added another tint to the
strangely isolationist (strangely?) atmosphere elsewhere. The
Pushkin another stunning auditorium . . . followed by some
very formal chat – one of the actresses talked about ‘spirituality’
and gave a consistently inspirited, gift-wrapped performance in
the evening. She did, bless her, come to see us tonight. There
was not so much as a glass of water available after the show.
‘You should have said beforehand.’

After the Dynamo Tbilisi football match

Georgia really is a different country, full of its own sounds,
sights and smells. Subways with weighing machines and
weighing-machine minders, weighing humans or sacks of
potatoes. Standing in the middle of the wonderful Rustaveli
stage. Enveloping heat. Slightly tentative swim in view of
sewage possibilities. A hotel only just on its feet. Everyone at
the match sitting on sheets of newspaper to protect their hard-
won trousers. And the mass tremor of 70,000 people with a
series of single responses for an hour and a half. I must come
back here to gather more threads – they retain a lifestyle which
seems to have the right balance – not dwarfed by buildings –
the peasant roots remain and yet in a population the size of
Birmingham there are thirteen theatres. Who knows what the
truth is, but I’ve enjoyed any deceptions.

London, November 1981

Karamazov opened in the West End last night. We open at the
Bush tomorrow – still the actors have to act as psychiatrist to
the director. Our imaginations are the greatest gift he has –
where’s the threat?
God, if your soul’s a mess, the mind goes scurrying around
some pretty dark corridors. There is a part of me which has
never left childhood – I must somehow locate it and tell it to
grow up fast. I shall continue to settle for the nearest womb all
the time; relationships, friends, the flat, bed. I exaggerate, as
ever, but in recognising that I constantly move in two
directions at the same time, I should remind myself that things
can be changed. The overriding urge at the moment (which I
don’t really understand) is to run my arm across the
mantelpiece.

July 1982
Two days after coming back from Crete & Egypt.
8am – It’s a beautiful sunny crisp blue morning, which is a
reminder that this book might benefit from being treated as a
positive element in my life. A big black line needs drawing
across many of the pages.
1
The parts were in The Carnation Gang by Stephen Poliakoff, Nijinsky by Rex
Doyle, and Henrik Ibsen’s When We Dead Awaken.
2
Stanhope Theatre, Euston Road, was where A.R. performed in 1965.
3
Ruby Wax’s first show
4
Antonio’s Revenge – by John Marston. A.R. had the title role.
5
Julius Kagarlitsky (1926–2000), Russian critic and professor of European drama at
the State Theatrical Institute in Moscow
6
Russian sociologist and dissident Boris Kagarlitsky (1958–)
7
Lech Wałęsa (1943–), Polish statesman, dissident and Nobel Peace Prize laureate
 Index
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Connolly, Billy ref1
Constantine of Greece, King ref1
Cooder, Ry ref1
Coogan, Steve ref1
Coogan, Tim Pat ref1
Cook, Robin ref1, ref2
Cooper, Ray ref1, ref2
Copenhagen ref1
Coppard, David ref1, ref2
Coppola, Francis Ford ref1
Corduner, Allan ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Coriolanus (play, Shakespeare) ref1, ref2
Cork ref1
Cornwell, Charlotte ref1
Corrie, Cindy ref1, ref2, ref3
Corrie, Craig ref1, ref2, ref3
Corrie, Rachel ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Cort, Robert ref1, ref2
Court, Margaret ref1
Courtenay, Tom ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Cousin Bette (film, 1998) ref1
Cox, Brian ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Craig, Daniel ref1
Craig, Stuart ref1
Cranham, Ken ref1
Crazy for You (musical) ref1
Creditors (play, Strindberg) ref1, ref2, ref3
Croft, Annabel ref1
Cronenberg, David ref1, ref2
Crowley, Bob ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Cruickshank, Harriet ref1
Cruise, Tom ref1, ref2
Cruttwell, Hugh ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Cryptogram, The (play, Mamet) ref1, ref2
Cuarón, Alfonso ref1, ref2, ref3
Cukier, Jacky ref1
Culkin, Macaulay ref1
Cullum, Jamie ref1
Cumberbatch, Benedict ref1
Cumming, Alan ref1, ref2
Currin, Brenda ref1
Curtis, Richard ref1
Curtis, Simon ref1
Cusack, Joan ref1
Cusack, Sinead ref1, ref2
Cushman, Chloe ref1
Dafoe, Willem ref1
Daish, Judy ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Daldry, Stephen ref1, ref2
Damascus (play, Grieg) ref1
Damon, Matt ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
and Dogma ref1, ref2
Dance, Charles ref1
Daniel, Jessica ref1
Daniels, Lee ref1, ref2
Danson, Ted ref1
D’Arcy, Sue ref1
Dark Harbor (film, 1998) ref1, ref2
Darnton, John ref1
Darnton, Nina ref1, ref2
Davenport, Jack ref1
Davies, Howard ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Davies, Nick ref1, ref2
Davis, Essie ref1
Davis, Geena ref1
Davis, Noel ref1
Davis, Warwick ref1
Day, Richard Digby ref1
Day-Lewis, Daniel ref1, ref2
De Jongh, Nicholas ref1
De la Tour, Andy ref1
De la Tour, Frances ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
De Niro, Robert ref1
De Palma, Brian ref1
De Valera, Éamon ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Dead Dog in a Suitcase (musical) ref1
Dead Man Walking (film, 1995) ref1
Deegan, Alison ref1, ref2
Deep End, The (film, 2001) ref1
Def, Mos ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Dench, Judi ref1, ref2, ref3
Dennehy, Brian ref1
Depp, Johnny ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Dern, Laura ref1, ref2
Derwentwater Primary School ref1
Designated Mourner (play, Shawn) ref1
Devil Himself, The (play, Rogue) ref1
DeVito, Danny ref1
Devlin, Alan ref1
Devlin, Polly ref1
Dexter, John ref1
Diamond, John ref1
Diana, Princess of Wales ref1, ref2, ref3
Diaz, Cameron ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
DiCaprio, Leonardo ref1
Die Hard (film, 1988) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Die Hard with a Vengeance (film, 1995) ref1, ref2, ref3
Diller, Barry ref1
Dionisotti, Paola ref1
Divo, Il (film, 2008) ref1
Djokovic, Novak ref1
Dodds, Megan ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10
Dodgson, Elyse ref1, ref2
Dogma (film, 1999) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Doll’s House, A (play, Ibsen) ref1
Dolly, Aunt ref1
Don, Robin ref1
Donnie Brasco (film, 1997) ref1, ref2
Doran, Lindsay ref1, ref2
Dorfman, Ariel ref1
Dornford-May, Mark ref1
Douglas, Michael ref1
Dowd, Pauline ref1, ref2
Downing Street ref1
Doyle, Pat ref1, ref2, ref3
Drabble, Margaret ref1
Driver, Minnie ref1, ref2, ref3
Driver, Ollie ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
DuBar, Isabelle ref1, ref2
Dublin ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11
and John Gabriel Borkman ref1
Dublin Carol (play, McPherson) ref1
Dunaway, Faye ref1
Dunblane massacre ref1
Duncan, Lindsay ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
and anti-cuts march ref1
and John Gabriel Borkman ref1, ref2, ref3
and Private Lives ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Duritz, Adam ref1
Dyer, Danny ref1
Dyke, Greg ref1
Dylan, Bob ref1, ref2, ref3
Edel, Uli ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Edinburgh ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Edmondson, Ade ref1, ref2, ref3
Edney, Beatie ref1, ref2
Edward, Prince, Earl of Wessex ref1
Egan, Gail ref1
Egerton, Taron ref1
Ehlers, Jerome ref1
Ejiofor, Chiwetel ref1
Elder, Mark ref1
Elizabeth II, HM Queen ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Ellis, Robin ref1
Elrod, Bree ref1, ref2
Elsie, Aunt ref1, ref2, ref3
Elton, Ben ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Elton, Charles ref1
Elyot, Kevin ref1
Emin, Tracey ref1
Emmy Awards ref1, ref2
Enfield, Harry ref1
English National Opera ref1, ref2
English Patient, The (film, 1996) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Ephron, Nora ref1
Erin Brockovich (film, 2000) ref1
Eustis, Oskar ref1
Evans, Bill ref1
Evans, David ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Evening Standard Film Awards ref1
Everett, Rupert ref1, ref2
Eye in the Sky (film, 2015) ref1, ref2
Eyre, Peter ref1
Eyre, Richard ref1, ref2, ref3
Fahey, Siobhan ref1
Fallowell, Duncan ref1
Fanning, Elle ref1
Farenheit 9/11 (film, 2004) ref1
Farhi, Nicole ref1, ref2
Farrow, Mia ref1, ref2
Fascinating Aida ref1
Fassbender, Michael ref1
Feast, Mickey ref1
Federer, Roger ref1
Felix Awards ref1
Fellner, Eric ref1
Felton, Tom ref1
Ferris, Pam ref1
Ferry, Bryan ref1
Fidelio (opera, Beethoven) ref1
Fielding, Emma ref1, ref2
Fiennes, Ralph ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Fife ref1, ref2, ref3
Figgis, Mike ref1
Final Curtain (film, 2002) ref1
Findlay, Freddie ref1, ref2
Finn, Jeffrey ref1
Finney, Albert ref1, ref2
Fiorentino, Linda ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Firesten, Marcia ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Firth, Colin ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Fish Tale, A (animation, 2000) ref1
Fishburne, Laurence ref1
Fisher, Carrie ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Fleetwood, Susan ref1
Fletcher, Dexter ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Foale, Rodney ref1
Follett, Barbara ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Follett, Ken ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Fonda, Jane ref1
Foot, Michael ref1, ref2
Ford, Harrison ref1
Forrest Gump (film, 1994) ref1, ref2
Forsyth, Bill ref1
Fortune, John ref1
Four Weddings and a Funeral (film, 1994) ref1
Fox, Celestia ref1
Foxxe, David ref1
Frain, James ref1, ref2
France ref1
Fraser, Antonia ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Fraser, Hugh ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Frayn, Michael ref1
Frears, Stephen ref1, ref2
Freeman, John ref1
Freeman, Morgan ref1
Fremantle, Chloe ref1
Freud, Lucian ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Friel, Anna ref1
Friel, Brian ref1, ref2, ref3
Frost, David ref1
Frostrup, Mariella ref1
Fry, Stephen ref1, ref2, ref3
Fuchs, Michael ref1
Fugard, Athol ref1
Funny Girl (film, 1968) ref1
Furnish, David ref1
Gabriel, Peter ref1
Galaxy Quest (film, 1999) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Gallagher, Liam ref1
Gambit (film, 2012) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Gambon, Michael ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
Ganz, Bruno ref1, ref2
Gaster, Nick ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Gaynor, John ref1
Geffen, David ref1
Geldof, Bob ref1, ref2
Gemma Bovary (film, 2014) ref1
George, Terry ref1, ref2
Gere, Richard ref1
Gervais, Ricky ref1
Gevisser, Peter ref1
Gielgud, Sir John ref1, ref2
Gill, A. A. ref1
Gilliam, Terry ref1, ref2
Gillott, Nick ref1
Gilmour, David ref1
Gish, Annabeth ref1
Gish, Sheila ref1, ref2
Glasgow ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Glass, Charles ref1
Glass Menagerie, The (play, Williams) ref1
Glasser, David ref1
Glossop, Charlotte ref1
Glossop, Roger ref1
Glyndebourne Opera ref1, ref2
Godley, Adam ref1
Gogglebox (TV series) ref1
Gold, Nina ref1
Gold, Sam ref1
Goldblum, Jeff ref1, ref2, ref3
Golden Globes ref1, ref2, ref3
Goldsmith, Lady Annabel ref1
Goldsmith, Harvey ref1
Golub-Evans, Jeffrey ref1
Good Will Hunting (film, 1997) ref1
Goodman, Henry ref1
Gordon, Donald ref1
Gorina, Natasha ref1
Gorman, Greg ref1
Gosford Park (film, 2001) ref1
Gould, Glenn ref1
Grade, Michael ref1, ref2
Graduate, The (play, Johnson) ref1
Graef, Roger ref1, ref2
Grainger, Gawn ref1, ref2
Grandage, Michael ref1, ref2
Grant, Hugh ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Grant, Lee ref1
Grant, Richard E. ref1, ref2, ref3
Grausman, David ref1
Gray, Rose ref1, ref2
Gray, Simon ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Green Mile, The (film, 1999) ref1
Greenblatt, Luke ref1
Greene, Graham ref1
Greene, Sally ref1
Greer, Bonnie ref1
Greer, Germaine ref1
Gregson, Peter ref1
Grieg, David ref1, ref2
Griffiths, Richard ref1, ref2
Grint, Rupert ref1, ref2
Guastini, Vincent J. ref1
Guinness, Sabrina ref1
Guish, Michelle ref1, ref2
Gull, Chris ref1
Gutierrez, Sebastian ref1
Guys and Dolls (musical) ref1
Gwynne, Haydn ref1
Gyllenhaal, Jake ref1
Hackworth-Young, Jane ref1
Hain, Peter ref1
Hall, Jerry ref1, ref2, ref3
Hall, Peter ref1
Hallyday, Johnny ref1
Halström, Lasse ref1
Hamburg ref1
Hamlet (play, Shakespeare) ref1, ref2
Hammerstein, Dena ref1, ref2, ref3
Hampton, Christopher ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Hampton, Laura ref1, ref2
Hands, Terry ref1
Hanks, Tom ref1
Happy Days (play, Beckett) ref1
Harbour, Michael ref1
Hard Problem, The (play, Stoppard) ref1
Hardy, Robert ref1
Hare, David ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Harlow, Hugh ref1
Harman, Harriet ref1
Harris, Richard ref1, ref2, ref3
Harrison, Dhani ref1
Harrison, George ref1, ref2, ref3
Harry, Prince, Duke of Sussex ref1
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (film, 2002) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (book, Rowling) ref1, ref2
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1 (film, 2010) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 (film, 2011) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (film, 2005) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Price (film, 2009) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (film, 2007) ref1, ref2
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (film, 2004) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (film, 2001) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and offer ref1, ref2, ref3
Hart, Ian ref1
Hart, John ref1
Hart, Miranda ref1
Hatley, Tim ref1
Hattersley, Roy ref1, ref2
Hauer, Debra ref1
Haunted (play, O’Brien) ref1
Havergal, Giles ref1
Havers, Nigel ref1
Hawke, Ethan ref1
Hawkins, Diana ref1
Hawn, Goldie ref1
Hay-on-Wye ref1
Hayek, Salma ref1
Head, Anthony ref1
Healey, Pat ref1
Heaney, Seamus ref1, ref2
Hearst, Anne ref1
Heath, Duncan ref1, ref2, ref3
Heath, Hilary ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Hedda Gabler (play, Ibsen) ref1
Hedley, Philip ref1, ref2, ref3
Heffernan, Margaret ref1, ref2
Heller, Zoë ref1
Henry, Lenny ref1
Henry IV Part 2 (play, Shakespeare) ref1
Henson, Jim ref1
Herbert, Jocelyn ref1
Hershey, Barbara ref1
Heston, Charlton ref1
Hetzel, Eric ref1
Heyman, David ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Heyman, Norma ref1
Hibbert, Edward ref1
Hickey, John Benjamin ref1, ref2
Hinchcliffe, Philip ref1
Hinds, Ciarán ref1, ref2
Hingis, Martina ref1
Hird, Thora ref1
History Boys, The (play, Bennett) ref1, ref2
Hitchens, Christopher ref1
Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy, The (film, 2005) ref1
Hite, Shere ref1
Hockney, David ref1, ref2
Hoffman, Dustin ref1
Hoffman, Jordan ref1
Hoffman, Michael ref1, ref2, ref3
Hoffman, Philip Seymour ref1
Hoflund, Judy ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Holdaway, Caroline ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
Hollander, Tom ref1
Hollinghurst, Alan ref1
Hollywood, Gary ref1
Holm, Arwen ref1, ref2
Holm, Ian ref1, ref2
Holroyd, Michael ref1
Holt, Thelma ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and McEwan ref1, ref2
Home Office protest ref1
Honeyman, Janice ref1
Hong Kong ref1
Hood, Matt ref1
Hoon, Geoff ref1
Hopkins, Anthony ref1, ref2, ref3
Hopkins, Barry ref1
Hopkins, Karen Brooks ref1
Horberg, Bill ref1
Hordern, Michael ref1
Horrocks, Jane ref1
Horton, Rima (wife) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and 60th birthday ref1, ref2, ref3
and father ref1
and Nevis ref1, ref2
and Rasputin ref1, ref2, ref3
Hoskins, Bob ref1, ref2
Hotel Nightfall (play, Barker) ref1
Houses of Parliament ref1
How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (musical) ref1
Howard, Michael ref1
Howard, Philip ref1
Hudsucker Proxy (film, 1994) ref1
Huggins, David ref1, ref2
Hughes, Dusty ref1
Hugo, Tara ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Humphries, Barry ref1
Hundertwasser, Friedensreich ref1
Hunt, Jeremy ref1
Hunter, Allan ref1
Hunter, Holly ref1, ref2
Huppert, Isabelle ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Hurd-Wood, Rachel ref1
Hurricane Isaac ref1
Hurt, John ref1
Hutchison, Iain ref1, ref2, ref3
Hutter, Birgit ref1, ref2
Hutton, Will ref1
Hyde, Marina ref1
Hytner, Joyce ref1
Hytner, Nicholas ref1, ref2, ref3
Ibelhauptaitė, Dalia ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11
Ice Storm, The (film, 1997) ref1, ref2
Iceman Cometh, The (play, O’Neill) ref1
ICM ref1
Idle, Eric ref1, ref2
Imrie, Celia ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
In the Line of Fire (film, 1993) ref1
Innocent, Harold ref1, ref2
Invention of Love (play, Stoppard) ref1
Iraq war ref1
Irons, Jeremy ref1, ref2, ref3
Ironside, Virginia ref1
Isaacs, Jason ref1
Ivory, James ref1
Izzard, Eddie ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Jackman, Hugh ref1, ref2
Jackson, Glenda ref1
Jackson, Michael ref1
Jacob, Irène ref1, ref2, ref3
Jacobi, Derek ref1
Jacques, Adam ref1
Jagger, Bianca ref1, ref2
Jagger, Mick ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Jamaica ref1
James, Adam ref1
James, Geraldine ref1
James, Peter ref1
Jeffrey, Peter ref1
Joffé, Roland ref1
Joffé, Rowan ref1
John, Elton ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
John Gabriel Borkman (play, Ibsen) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Johnson, Boris ref1
Johnson, David ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Johnson, Mark ref1
Jonas, Peter ref1
Jones, Ann ref1
Jones, Gemma ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Jones, Quincy ref1
Jones, Tom ref1
Jong, Erica ref1
Jonic, Bettina ref1, ref2
Jordan, Neil ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10
Joubert, Pearlie ref1
Jowell, Tessa ref1, ref2
Judas Kiss (film, 1998) ref1, ref2
Judas Kiss, The (play, Hare) ref1
Judt, Tony ref1
Jumpers (play, Stoppard) ref1
Jupitus, Phill ref1
Kafka on the Shore (play, Murakami) ref1
Kagarlitsky, Boris ref1
Kagarlitsky, Julius ref1
Kahan, Marcy ref1, ref2
Kamasa, Zygi ref1
Kamen, Michael ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11
and memorial ref1
Kansas City (film, 1996) ref1
Karlin, Miriam ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Keaton, Michael ref1
Keenan-Kamen, Sandra ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
Kelly, Jude ref1
Kemp, June ref1
Kendall, Felicity ref1
Kennedy, A.L. ref1
Kennedy, Caroline ref1
Kennedy, Helena ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
and Diamond ref1
Just Law ref1
Kennedy, Jim ref1
Kennedy, Nigel ref1
Kensit, Patsy ref1
Kent, Bruce ref1
Kent, Jonathan ref1
Kent, Nick ref1
Kenya ref1
Kermode, Mark ref1
Kestelman, Sara ref1
Key, Liza ref1
Khan, Amir ref1
Khan, Jemima ref1, ref2, ref3
Kidman, Nicole ref1
Killing, The (TV show) ref1, ref2
Killing of Sister George, The (play, Marcus) ref1
Kilmer, Val ref1
Kimmel, Jimmy ref1
King, Billie Jean ref1
King, James ref1
King, Jeremy ref1
King Lear (play, Shakespeare) ref1
Kingsley, Sir Ben ref1, ref2, ref3
Kinnock, Glenys ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Kinnock, Neil ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
Kinnock, Stephen ref1
Kline, Kevin ref1, ref2
Knightley, Keira ref1
Kohn, Barry ref1
Kökényessy, Ági ref1
Krakower, Louise ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Krapp’s Last Tape (play, Beckett) ref1
Kristal, Hilly ref1
Kuras, Ellen ref1, ref2, ref3
Labour Party ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Ladies in Lavender (film, 2004) ref1
Lady Gaga ref1
Lady Windermere’s Fan (play, Wilde) ref1
Ladybird, Ladybird (film, 1994) ref1
Lake Como ref1
Landau, David ref1, ref2, ref3
Landau, Natasha ref1
Lang, Belinda ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Lang, Kirsty ref1
Lang, Margaret ref1
Lansbury, Angela ref1
Lapotaire, Jane ref1, ref2
Larkin, Philip ref1
Last Action Hero (film, 1993) ref1
Last Seduction, The (film, 1994) ref1
Late Show (TV show) ref1
Later With Jools Holland (TV show) ref1
Latymer School ref1, ref2
Laurie, Hugh ref1, ref2
Law, Phyllida ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
and The Winter Guest ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Lawson, Denis ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Lawson, Dominic ref1, ref2
Lawson, Horatia ref1
Lawson, Nigella ref1, ref2
Laye, Dilys ref1
Le Touzel, Sylvestra ref1
Lebedev, Evgeny ref1
Ledger, Heath ref1
Lee, Ang ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
Lee, Christopher ref1
Lee, Jason ref1, ref2
Leeds ref1, ref2
LeFrak, Francine ref1, ref2, ref3
Leicester ref1
Leigh, Mike ref1, ref2
Leigh-Hunt, Barbara ref1
Lemper, Ute ref1
Lennon, John ref1, ref2
Lennox, Annie ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Leno, Jay ref1
Lepage, Robert ref1, ref2
Les Miserables (musical) ref1
Lessac, Arthur ref1
Lessing, Doris ref1
Lette, Kathy ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Liaisons Dangereuses, Les (play, Hampton) ref1
Liebowitz, Annie ref1
Liebowitz, Fran ref1
Limato, Ed ref1
Lindsay, Robert ref1
Line of Duty (TV series) ref1
Linklater, Hamish ref1
Linklater, Kristin ref1, ref2
Linney, Laura ref1
Lipman, Maureen ref1, ref2, ref3
Lipper, Ken ref1
Little Chaos, A (film, 2014) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
and filming ref1
and release ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
and screening ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Livingstone, Ken ref1
Lloyd, Walt ref1
Lloyd-Webber, Andrew ref1, ref2, ref3
Loach, Ken ref1, ref2
Lobell, Mike ref1, ref2
London bombings ref1
Lone Star (film, 1996) ref1
Longford, Lord ref1
Los Angeles (LA) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11
and Dark Harbor ref1
and Galaxy Quest ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
and Golden Globes ref1, ref2
Love, Patti ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Love Actually (film, 2003) ref1, ref2
Love Never Dies (musical) ref1
Lucas, George ref1, ref2
Lulu ref1, ref2
Lumière, Carlos ref1
Lumley, Joanna ref1
Lunardi, Alessandro ref1
Lunardi, Elizabeth ref1
Lynch, Finbar ref1
Lyon-Maris, Paul ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Lyons, Ben ref1
Lyttelton, Humphrey ref1
McAleese, Mary ref1
McAnuff, Des ref1
MacAskill, Duncan ref1
Macbeth (play, Shakespeare) ref1
McBurney, Simon ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
McCabe, Colin ref1
McCallion, Michael ref1
McCartney, Paul ref1
MacCormick, Niall ref1
McCourt, Frank ref1
McCrory, Helen ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
McCullin, Don ref1
McCutcheon, Martine ref1
McDermottroe, Conor ref1, ref2, ref3
McDiarmid, Ian ref1, ref2
MacDonald, David ref1
Macdonald, James ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Macdonald, Sharman ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
McDormand, Frances ref1
McDowell, Malcolm ref1
McElhone, Johnny ref1
McEnroe, John ref1, ref2, ref3
McEwan, Geraldine ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
McEwan, Ian ref1
McGarrigle, Kate ref1, ref2
McGarvey, Seamus ref1, ref2
McGovern, Elizabeth ref1
McGowan, John ref1
McGowan, Mary ref1, ref2, ref3
McGrath, Doug ref1
McGrath, Patrick ref1, ref2
McGregor, Ewan ref1, ref2, ref3
McGuinness, Frank ref1
Machinal (play, Treadwell) ref1
McInerney, Jay ref1
McKee, Gina ref1
McKellen, Ian ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12,
ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17
and 75th birthday ref1
and Rasputin ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
MacLaine, Shirley ref1
MacLaren, Donald ref1
McLaren, Malcolm ref1
McNally, Kevin ref1
McQueen, Steve ref1
McRae, Hilton ref1, ref2, ref3
McRae, Keene ref1
McTeer, Janet ref1
Madame Melville (Nelson) ref1
Madonna ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Maguire, Tobey ref1
Major, John ref1, ref2, ref3
Malashevskaya, Elena ref1
Malkovich, John ref1
Mamet, David ref1
Mamma Mia (musical) ref1
Manchester ref1
Mandela, Nelson ref1, ref2
Mandelson, Peter ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Mandlíková, Hana ref1
Mann, Lorna ref1
Manzi, Nick ref1
Mapplethorpe, Robert ref1
Maps to the Stars (film, 2014) ref1
Marber, Patrick ref1
March, Ros ref1, ref2
Margaret, HRH Princess ref1
Margoyles, Miriam ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Marr, Andrew ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Marshall, Penny ref1
Marvin’s Room (play, McPherson) ref1
Mask of Zorro, The (film, 1998) ref1
Massey, Anna ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Mastrantonio, Mary Elizabeth ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Mathias, Sean ref1, ref2
and Antony and Cleopatra ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Maupin, Armistead ref1, ref2
Mayall, Rik ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Mayfair Entertainment International ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Mayo, Simon ref1
Meaden, Deborah ref1
Medak, Peter ref1
Medea (play, Euripides) ref1
Melbourne ref1
Mendes, Eva ref1
Menelaus, Jane ref1
Menges, Chris ref1
Merchant, Ismail ref1
Merchant, Stephen ref1
Merchant of Venice, The (play, Shakespeare) ref1
Merrison, Clive ref1
Mesguich, Daniel ref1
Mesmer (film, 1994) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
and screening ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Messel, Oliver ref1
Mewes, Jason ref1
Meylan, Mark ref1, ref2, ref3
Michael Collins (film, 1996) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Michell, Roger ref1
Midler, Bette ref1
Migenes, Julia ref1
Miles, Ben ref1
Miliband, Ed ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Miliband, Justine ref1
Milk (film, 2008) ref1
Millbank, Elizabeth ref1
Miller, Arthur ref1, ref2
Miller, Randy ref1, ref2, ref3
Mills, Sir John ref1
Milne, Seamas ref1
Milward, Kristin ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Minghella, Anthony ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and BAFTA ref1
and death ref1, ref2
and The English Patient ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
 and Play ref1
and The Talented Mr Ripley ref1, ref2
Minogue, Dannii ref1
Minogue, Kylie ref1
Mirren, Helen ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and Antony and Cleopatra ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Mishcon, Peter ref1
Miyake, Issey ref1, ref2
Mizrahi, Isaac ref1
Mnouchkine, Ariane ref1
Moline, Karen ref1
Month in the Country, A (play, Turgenev) ref1
Montreal ref1
Moore, Joe David ref1
Moore, Julianne ref1, ref2
Moore, Michael ref1, ref2
Moran, Pauline ref1
Moreau, Jeanne ref1
Morgan, Fidelis ref1
Morissette, Alanis ref1
Morland, John-Ross ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Morris, Alastair ref1
Mortimer, Angela ref1
Mortimer, John ref1, ref2, ref3
Mosher, Greg ref1, ref2
Moss, Kate ref1, ref2
Mr Bean (film, 1997) ref1
Muir, Andrew ref1, ref2
Mullen, Marie ref1
Munich ref1, ref2
Murch, Walter ref1
Murdoch, Rupert ref1, ref2
Murphy, Douglas ref1, ref2
Murray, Abigail ref1
Murray, Andy ref1, ref2
Murray, Neil ref1
My Best Friend (play, Oglesby) ref1
My Name Is Rachel Corrie (play, Rickman/Viner) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7,
ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13
and Edinburgh ref1, ref2
and New York ref1, ref2
Myers, Ruth ref1
Nadal, Rafael ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Nadelson, Reggie ref1, ref2
Nail, Jimmy ref1
Namdar, Fatimah ref1
Naples ref1
Nashville ref1
National Theatre ref1, ref2, ref3
and Antony and Cleopatra ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Naughtie, James ref1
Navratilova, Martina ref1, ref2
Nederlander, James ref1
Neeson, Liam ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10
Nelson, Richard ref1
Nettles, Joyce ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Neubauer, Andreas ref1
Neumann, David ref1
Nevis ref1, ref2
New Orleans ref1, ref2, ref3
New York City ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12,
ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18
and 9/11 ref1
and Creditors ref1
and John Gabriel Borkman ref1
and My Name Is Rachel Corrie ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
and Private Lives ref1
and Richardson ref1
and Seminar ref1, ref2, ref3
Newell, Mike ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Newman, Paul ref1, ref2, ref3
Newton, Thandie ref1
Nichols, Mike ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
and memorial ref1
Nicholson, Jack ref1
Nicola, James C. ref1
Nieland-Fisher, Nancy ref1
Nighy, Bill ref1
Nijinsky (play, Doyle) ref1
Nimoy, Leonard ref1
Ninagawa, Yukio ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, The (film, 2008) ref1
Nobel Son (film, 2007) ref1, ref2, ref3
Nottingham ref1
Novak, Kim ref1
Novotná, Jana ref1
Nunn, Trevor ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Nyman Michael ref1
Obama, Barack ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Obama, Michelle ref1
O’Brien, Edna ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11
Haunted ref1
Saints and Sinners ref1
O’Brien, Richard ref1, ref2
O’Connor, Pat ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
O’Donnell, Anthony ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Ofili, Chris ref1
Oglesby, Tamsin ref1
Oldman, Gary ref1
Olim, Catherine ref1, ref2
Oliver, Jamie ref1, ref2
Olivier, Julie-Kate ref1
Olivier Awards ref1
Olympia ref1
Ondaatje, Michael ref1, ref2
One Direction (band) ref1
Ooms, Amanda ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
Orbach, Susie ref1
Orlando (play, Woolf) ref1
Orton, Corinne ref1
Oscars see Academy Awards
Owen, David ref1, ref2
Owen, Michael ref1, ref2
Paige, Elaine ref1, ref2
Palin, Sarah ref1
Palmer, Robert ref1
Paltrow, Gwyneth ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Paris ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Parish, Judy ref1
Parisot, Dean ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Parker, Melanie ref1, ref2
Parr, Martin ref1
Parsons, Nicholas ref1
Paul, Guy ref1
Paxman, Jeremy ref1
Peace Garden concert ref1
Pearson, Neil ref1, ref2
Peer Gynt (play, Ibsen) ref1, ref2
Penberthy, Beverly ref1
Penn, Sean ref1
Penry-Jones, Rupert ref1
Peploe, Clare ref1
Perfume (film, 2006) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Perlman, Rhea ref1
Permanent Way, The (play, Hare) ref1
Persians, The (play, Aeschylus) ref1
Persuasion (film, 1995) ref1, ref2
Philip, HRH Prince, Duke of Edinburgh ref1
Philippines ref1, ref2, ref3
Philips, Zara ref1
Philomena (film, 2013) ref1
Phoebe in Wonderland (film, 2008) ref1
Phone Calls (play, Brock) ref1
Piano Teacher, The (film, 2001) ref1
Piano, The (film, 1993) ref1
Pickup, Ronald ref1
Picture of Dorian Gray, The (play, Wilde) ref1
Pinewood Studios ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Pinter, Harold ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
and tribute ref1
Pitt, Brad ref1
Pittsburgh ref1, ref2
Plague Over England (play, de Jongh) ref1
Plasticine (play, Sigarev) ref1
Platt, Oliver ref1
Play (film, 2001) ref1
Pleasence, Angela ref1, ref2, ref3
Pleasence, Donald ref1
Plowright, Joan ref1
Polanski, Roman ref1, ref2
Poliakoff, Stephen ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
Politician’s Wife, The (TV show) ref1
Pollack, Sydney ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Pollock, Alice ref1
Pollock, Patsy ref1
Pope, Dick ref1
Portman, Natalie ref1
Postino, Il (film, 1994) ref1
Potter, Dennis ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Poundstone, Paula ref1
Pountney, David ref1
Powell, Jonathan ref1
Powell, Sandy ref1
Prague ref1
Prescott, John ref1
Presto, Fay ref1
Prima Donna (opera, Wainwright) ref1
Private Lives (play, Coward) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
 and Broadway ref1
Proctor, Patrick ref1, ref2, ref3
Prowse, Philip ref1
Pryce, Jonathan ref1
Pullman, Bill ref1
Pulp Fiction (film, 1994) ref1, ref2
Pursey, Elizabeth ref1
Puttnam, David ref1, ref2, ref3
Pye, Tom ref1
Quartet (film, 2012) ref1
Queen Latifah ref1
Queen, The (film, 2006) ref1
Quick, Diana ref1, ref2
Quinn, Aidan ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Quirke, Antonia ref1
Rabe, Lily ref1, ref2
RADA see Royal Academy of Dramatic Art
Radcliffe, Daniel ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
and Broadway ref1
Radcliffe, Michael ref1
Ragályi, Elemér ref1
Ragályo, Elemér ref1
Ramones, The ref1
Ramsay, Peggy ref1
Rappaport, Jill ref1
Rasputin (film, 1996) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Rawnsley, Andrew ref1
Rayner, Claire ref1
Rea, Stephen ref1, ref2
Reagan, Nancy ref1
Reagan, Ronald ref1
Real Thing, The (play, Stoppard) ref1, ref2
Rebeck, Theresa ref1, ref2
Rebuck, Gail ref1
Redding, Noel ref1, ref2
Redgrave, Corin ref1
Redgrave, Jemma ref1
Redgrave, Lynn ref1, ref2
Redgrave, Vanessa ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Reding, Nick ref1
Redmayne, Eddie ref1
Reed, Lou ref1, ref2
Reedus, Norman ref1, ref2
Rees, Angharad ref1
Rees, Jed ref1
Reeve, Christopher ref1
Reeves, Rev. Donald ref1
Reeves, Vic ref1
Regeneration (film, 1997) ref1
Reich, Allon ref1
Reich, Steve ref1
Reid, Christopher ref1
Reid, Sheila ref1
Remains of the Day (film, 1993) ref1
Renzi, Maggie ref1
Restoration (film, 1995) ref1
Resurrection Blues (play, Miller) ref1
Revolutionary Witness (play, Barnes) ref1
Reynolds, Debbie ref1
Reynolds, Lance, W. ref1
Rhys Jones, Griff ref1
Rhys Meyers, Jonathan ref1
Rice-Davies, Mandy ref1
Richard, Cliff ref1
Richard III (play, Shakespeare) ref1
Richardson, Joely ref1
Richardson, Miranda ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
Richardson, Natasha ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
and Closer ref1
and death ref1
Richardson, Peter ref1, ref2
Richardson, Tony ref1
Richmond, John ref1
Rickman, Bernard (father) ref1
Rickman, Margaret (mother) ref1, ref2, ref1, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10,
ref11, ref12
and Chartwell House ref1, ref2
and death ref1, ref2
and hospital ref1, ref2
and VE Day ref1
Rickson, Ian ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Ridoux, Serge ref1
Rivers, Joan ref1
Riverside Studios ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Robbins, Tim ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Roberts, Julia ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (film, 1991) ref1
Robinson, Geoffrey ref1, ref2, ref3
Rock, Chris ref1
Rockwell, Sam ref1
Roda, Jeff ref1
Roddick, Anita ref1
Rodenburg, Patsy ref1
Rogers, Bo ref1
Rogers, Mimi ref1
Rogers, Richard ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Rogers, Ruth ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and Gray ref1, ref2
Rolling Stones ref1
Rome ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Room, The (play, Pinter) ref1
Roose-Evans, James ref1
Rose, Charlie ref1
Ross, Diana ref1
Ross, Jonathan ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Rossellini, Isabella ref1
Roth, Ann ref1
Roth, Tim ref1
Rothschild, Evelyn de ref1
Rourke, Mickey ref1, ref2
Rowling, J. K. (Joanne) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8,
ref9, ref10, ref11
and away weekend ref1
and Christian ref1
and training committee ref1
and Vanbrugh theatre ref1
and Wark ref1, ref2
Royal Court Theatre ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and My Name Is Rachel Corrie ref1, ref2
and Plasticine ref1
Royal Opera House ref1
Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) ref1, ref2
Rubes, Jan ref1
Rubis, Jeffrey A. ref1
Rudkin, David ref1
Rumsfeld, Donald ref1
Rusbridger, Alan ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Rusbridger, Lindsay ref1
Rusedski, Greg ref1
Rush, Geoffrey ref1
Rushdie, Salman ref1, ref2
Ruskin, Sheila ref1
Russia ref1
Rutstein, Sedmara ref1
Ryan, Meg ref1
Ryder, Winona ref1
Ryding, Kate ref1
Saatchi, Charles ref1
Sacks, Oliver ref1
Sadovy, Liza ref1
S.A.F.E. (Sponsored Arts for Education, Kenya) ref1
Said, Edward ref1
St Aubyn, Edward ref1, ref2
St Petersburg ref1
Salt Lake City ref1, ref2
Samuel, David ref1
Sander, Otto ref1
Sands, Julian ref1
Santana ref1
Sarandon, Susan ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Sargent, Jan ref1
Sargent, Joe ref1, ref2, ref3
Saunders, Jennifer ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Sautoy, Carmen du ref1
Savannah ref1
Sawhney, Nitin ref1
Sawyer, Diane ref1
Scacchi, Greta ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Scales, Prunella ref1, ref2
Schama, Simon ref1
Schamus, James ref1
Schnabel, Julian ref1, ref2
Schoenaerts, Matthias ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Schub, Steven ref1
Schulz-Kiel, Wieland ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Scofield, Paul ref1, ref2
Scorer, Ian ref1, ref2
Scott Thomas, Kristin ref1, ref2, ref3
Seagal, Steven ref1
Search for John Gissing, The (film, 2001) ref1
Searching for Sugar Man (film, 2012) ref1
Secrets and Lies (film, 1996) ref1
Seles, Monica ref1, ref2
Sellars, Peter ref1
Sellers, Peter ref1
Selway, Mary ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Seminar (play, Rebeck) ref1, ref2, ref3
Sense and Sensibility (film, 1995) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10
and premiere ref1, ref2
 and screening ref1
Sessions, John ref1
Sesti, Cosimo ref1, ref2, ref3
Sesti, Orlando ref1
Sesti, Paloma ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Sewell, Rufus ref1
Shalhoub, Tony ref1, ref2
Sharp, Lesley ref1
Shaw, Fiona ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
and Glyndebourne ref1
and John Gabriel Borkman ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
and Widowers’ Houses ref1
Shawn, Wallace ref1, ref2
Shawshank Redemption, The (film, 1994) ref1
Shearer, Harry ref1
Sheeran, Ed ref1
Sheffield ref1, ref2
Shepherd, Cybill ref1
Sher, Anthony ref1
Sheridan, Dinah ref1
Sheridan, Jim ref1
Sheriffs, Alex ref1
Sherman, Martin ref1, ref2
Shields, Brooke ref1
Shivas, Mark ref1, ref2, ref3
Shor, Hilary ref1, ref2
Shriver, Pam ref1
Shurety, Sarah ref1
Siena ref1
Sigarev, Vassily ref1
Simchowitz, Stefan ref1
Simmonds, Rev. John ref1, ref2
Simon, Paul ref1
Sinatra, Frank ref1
Sinclair, Malcolm ref1
Singer, Bryan ref1
Skinner, Claire ref1
Skinner, Dennis ref1, ref2
Slater, Christian ref1
Slattery, Tony ref1
Sleepless in Seattle (film, 1993) ref1, ref2
Slice of Saturday Night, A (musical) ref1
Smith, Chris ref1
Smith, Iain Duncan ref1
Smith, John ref1, ref2
Smith, Dr Joseph ‘Jay’ ref1
Smith, Kevin ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Smith, Maggie ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
and HP/ (2009) ref1, ref2
and HP/ (2010) ref1
and Quartet ref1
Smith, Mel ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
Smith, Patti ref1, ref2
Just Kids ref1
Smyth, Patty ref1
Snow, Jon ref1, ref2, ref3
Snow Cake (film, 2006) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and premiere ref1
and screening ref1, ref2
Snowdon, Anthony Armstrong-Jones, Lord ref1, ref2, ref3
Soderbergh, Steven ref1
Something the Lord Made (film, 2004) ref1, ref2
Sondheim, Stephen ref1
Song of Lunch, The (film, 2010) ref1, ref2
Sonoma ref1
Sophie, Countess of Wessex ref1
Souter, Peter ref1
South Africa ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Spacey, Kevin ref1, ref2, ref3
Spall, Timothy ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Spencer, Charles, Earl ref1
Spencer, Raine ref1
Spice Girls ref1
Spielberg, Steven ref1
Spiteri, Sharleen ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Spottiswoode, Roger ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10
and editing ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
and screening ref1
Spriggs, Elizabeth ref1
Spurrier, Steven ref1
Stafford-Clark, Max ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Staunton, Denis ref1
Staunton, Imelda ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Steadman, Alison ref1
Steady Rain, A (play, Huff) ref1
Stealing Beauty (film, 1996) ref1
Steenburgen, Mary ref1
Steiger, Rod ref1
Stein, Peter ref1
Stephens, Robert ref1
Stephenson, Shelagh ref1
Steven, Stewart ref1
Stevens, Jocelyn ref1
Stevenson, Juliet ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11
and Minghella ref1
and Play ref1
and The Politician’s Wife ref1
Stewart, Dave ref1, ref2, ref3
Still Alice (film, 2014) ref1
Sting ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Stoller, Jennie ref1
Stone, Sharon ref1
Stoppard, Sabrina ref1
Stoppard, Tom ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Streep, Meryl ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Streisand, Barbra ref1
Strozzi, Principessa ref1
Stubbs, Imogen ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Sturgeon, Nicola ref1, ref2
Sturua, Robert ref1
Styler, Trudie ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Suchet, David ref1, ref2
Sugarman, Sara ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Sulzberger, Arthur ref1
Sundance Festival ref1
Sunset Boulevard (musical) ref1
Sunshine on Leith (film, 2013) ref1
Sutherland, Kiefer ref1
Suu Kyi, Aung San ref1
Suzman, Janet ref1
Sweeney Todd (film, 2007) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and screening ref1, ref2
Sweet Sixteen (film, 2002) ref1
Swinton, Tilda ref1
Syal, Meera ref1
Syms, Richard ref1
Syms, Sylvia ref1
Talented Mr Ripley, The (film, 1999) ref1
Talking Heads (band) ref1
Tate, Stephen ref1
Taylor, Josie ref1
Taylor, Rachael ref1
Tbilisi ref1
Teale, Owen ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Tennant, David ref1
Tennant, Neil ref1, ref2
Texas (band) ref1, ref2
Thatcher, Margaret ref1, ref2, ref3
Thérèse Raquin (play, Zola) ref1, ref2
Thewlis, David ref1, ref2
Thomas, Jeremy ref1
Thomas, Mark ref1
Thomas, Scott ref1
Thomas, Siân ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Thompson, Emma ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12,
ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17
and Academy Awards ref1, ref2
and Judas Kiss ref1
and Love Actually ref1, ref2
and Remains of the Day ref1
and Sense and Sensibility ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
and Song of Lunch ref1
and The Winter Guest ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Thompson, Sophie ref1, ref2
Thomson, Taylor ref1, ref2, ref3
Thurman, Uma ref1, ref2
Titanic (film, 1997) ref1
Todd, Carol ref1
Tofino ref1
Tokyo ref1
Tomei, Marisa ref1
Tommy (musical) ref1
Tony Awards ref1, ref2, ref3
Toronto ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Touching the Void (film, 2003) ref1
Trainspotting (film, 1996) ref1
Travers, Peter ref1
Traverse Theatre ref1
Treadaway, Luke ref1
Tree of Life (film, 2011) ref1
Trees Lounge (film, 1997) ref1
Trodd, Kenith ref1
Trollope, Anthony: Barchester novels ref1
Truly, Madly, Alan Rickman (documentary) ref1
Truly, Madly, Deeply (film, 1991) ref1
Truman, Christine ref1
Trump, Ivana ref1
tsunami ref1
Tucci, Stanley ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
 and A Little Chaos ref1, ref2
Tuscany ref1, ref2
Tushingham, Rita ref1, ref2
Tykwer, Tom ref1, ref2, ref3
Ullapool ref1
Under the Skin (film, 1997) ref1
Union, Gabrielle ref1
Urguhart, Jean ref1
Ustinov, Peter ref1
Usual Suspects, The (film, 1995) ref1, ref2
Utah ref1
Vale, Justin ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Van Sant, Gus ref1, ref2
Vanya on 42 Street (film, 1994) ref1
Vassilev, Vasko ref1
Venice ref1, ref2, ref3
Vic, Uncle ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Vicky Cristina Barcelona (film, 2008) ref1
Victoria Wood Christmas Show (TV show) ref1
Vidal, Gore ref1, ref2
Vienna ref1
Viner, Katharine ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Vitale, Ruth ref1
Voe, Sandra ref1, ref2
Volpone (play, Jonson) ref1
Volterra ref1
Waddington, Steven ref1
Wade, Virginia ref1
Wainwright, Martha ref1, ref2
Wainwright, Rufus ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Waiting for Godot (play, Beckett) ref1
Waits, Tom ref1, ref2
Wałęsa, Lech ref1
Waley-Cohen, Stephen ref1
Walger, Sonya ref1
Walken, Christopher ref1
Walker, Neil ref1
Walker, Polly ref1, ref2, ref3
Wall (play, Hare) ref1
Wallingford ref1
Walter, Harriet ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
Walters, Julie ref1
Wanamaker, Zoë ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
Wanzenberg, Alan ref1
Ward, Andrew ref1, ref2, ref3
Ward, Stephen ref1
Waring, Lucy ref1
Wark, John ref1, ref2
Warner, Deborah ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Washington, Denzel ref1
Waters, Roger ref1
Watson, Emily ref1, ref2
Watson, Emma ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Watson, Heather ref1
Watson, Tom ref1
Watts, Naomi ref1
Wawa ref1
Wax, Ruby ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13,
ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25,
ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33
and Barr ref1
and birthdays ref1, ref2
and family ref1
and Fisher ref1
and HARDTalk ref1
and Hello magazine ref1
and LA ref1
and Madonna ref1
and Mayall ref1, ref2
and OBE ref1
and The Priory ref1, ref2, ref3
and RSC ref1
and Spice Girls ref1
 and TV show ref1
Weaver, Sigourney ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
and Galaxy Quest ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
and Snow Cake ref1, ref2
Webb, Danny & Leila ref1
Webb, Justin ref1
Weinstein, Harvey ref1, ref2
Wells, John ref1
Wenders, Wim ref1, ref2
Wesker, Arnold ref1
West Lothian Youth Theatre ref1
West, Timothy ref1
West Yorkshire Playhouse ref1, ref2
Westwood, Vivienne ref1
Whelan, Wendy ref1
When We Dead Awaken (play, Ibsen) ref1
Whishaw, Ben ref1
Whitaker, Forest ref1
Whitehouse, Mary ref1
Whitfield, June ref1
Whiting, John ref1
Widowers’ Houses (play, Shaw) ref1
Wilde, Brian ref1
William, HRH Prince, Duke of Cambridge ref1, ref2
Williams, Finty ref1
Williams, John ref1
Williams, Kate ref1
Williams, Robbie ref1
Williams, Robin ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Willis, Bruce ref1, ref2, ref3
Wilson, Colin ref1
Wilson, Harold ref1
Wilson, Richard ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12,
ref13
Wilson, Rita ref1
Wilson, Robert ref1
Wilson, Ruth ref1, ref2
Wilson, Snoo ref1
Wilton, Penelope ref1, ref2, ref3
Wimbledon (tennis tournament) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
Winfrey, Oprah ref1, ref2
Wingate, Roger ref1
Wings of the Dove (film, 1997) ref1
Winslet, Kate ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
and Academy Awards ref1, ref2, ref3
and A Little Chaos ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
Winter Guest, The (film, 1997) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7
and score ref1
and screening ref1, ref2, ref3
Winter Guest, The (play, Macdonald) ref1, ref2, ref32, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9
and rehearsals ref1, ref2
Wintour, Anna ref1
Winwood, Stevie ref1
Wisdom of Crocodiles (film, 1998) ref1, ref2, ref3
Wise, Greg ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8
Wolf Hall (play, Mantel) ref1
Wood, Graham ref1
Wood, John ref1
Wood, Victoria ref1, ref2, ref3
Woodard, Alfre ref1, ref2
Woodward, Joanne ref1
Wooldridge, Susan ref1
Woolley, Stephen ref1, ref2
Wright, Jules ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Wyler, William ref1
Wyoming ref1
Yanowsky, Zenaida ref1
Yared, Gabriel ref1
Yates, David ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Yentob, Alan ref1, ref2
Yentob, Philippa ref1
York, Sarah, Duchess of ref1, ref2
Young, David ref1, ref2
Young, Emily ref1
Young, Hugo ref1, ref2
Young, Robert ref1
Young Vic Theatre ref1
Zaentz, Saul ref1, ref2, ref3
Zanone, Christian ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Zefferelli, Franco ref1
Zellweger, Renée ref1
Zeta Jones, Catherine ref1, ref2
Zieliński, Jerzy ref1
Zimmerman, Bonnie ref1
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