The Wound That Never Healed
Oliver had been largely inactive as a film actor for years, though he did have a role in the quirky comedy Funny Bones, set in Blackpool, which was so messed about with in the editing that it amounted to little more than a cameo in the finished version. Then, right out of the blue, he received an offer to appear in a Hollywood blockbuster from the director of Die Hard 2 and Cliffhanger. Renny Harlin was planning a one-hundred-million-dollar pirate romp called Cutthroat Island starring his wife Geena Davis and wanted Ollie to appear briefly as a scurvy old seadog. In November 1994 Ollie flew to Malta to prepare for what was undoubtedly the biggest production of his career. He lasted twenty-four hours.
At the pre-production party a well-fortified Ollie thought it would be a wheeze to show everyone the tattoo on his cock. Star Geena Davis was not amused, and when he woke up the next morning he was handed a cursory note telling him he’d been fired for ‘inappropriate behaviour related to alcohol’. For his friends and supporters it was all too common a tale. ‘Oliver lost work through that kind of behaviour, no question,’ says Michael Winner.
Vic Armstrong, who’d last seen Oliver over a decade before in Iraq, was stunt coordinator on Cutthroat Island and remembers coming down that morning into the hotel breakfast room and seeing Ollie all dressed up and packed. ‘Hello, Ollie,’ offered Vic. Ollie grimaced. ‘Fucking assholes. I’m outta here.’ And he was gone. ‘And that was the last time I ever saw Ollie, bless him. But it was so typical of him, and perfect.’
It was back to basics again, with Ollie making in quick succession two risible films that blessedly never saw daylight: Superbrain was a heist movie and Russian Roulette – Moscow 95 a hopeless thriller filmed in Minsk. At least he found himself again in the warm company of Barbara Carrera. The two hadn’t met since making Condorman some fourteen years before and Barbara found Ollie ‘a different person, much more sedate. He was such a gentleman, very easy to be around and to talk to, very congenial, very courteous.’
While Barbara was no doubt pleased with this new version of Oliver, there was one incident that reminded her of the old Ollie who’d half-thrown her off a balcony in Monte Carlo. One of the producers on Russian Roulette held a birthday celebration at a local castle to which the entire cast and crew were invited. ‘We arrived at eleven o’clock in the morning,’ remembers Barbara. ‘And to meet us was this truck full of vodka. By lunchtime everyone was totally wasted.’ After lunch most of the men went outside into the courtyard for bouts of arm-wrestling, with Oliver predictably at the helm. After about an hour he returned to the restaurant and was behaving in a manner Barbara had recognized before, with that glazed look in his eyes, and she knew what was coming. But this time she’d the experience to know how to handle him. ‘And I was drunk enough that I didn’t care. Ollie grabbed a dining-room chair and held it up as if he was going to smash it over someone’s head; it was very menacing. And I said, “Oliver, put that chair down!” He looked at me with this meek expression like a child and he put it down and just left to continue arm-wrestling with the crew. The next day I remember we showed up on the set and everybody had bandages.’
Both Superbrain and Russian Roulette were directed by Menahem Golan, the former head of Cannon Films, who thoroughly enjoyed working with Oliver and cherished his mischievous sense of humour. On Russian Roulette the cast and crew often had dinner together, ‘And a couple of times Oliver took out his prick and beat the table with it yelling, “Give me better food, give me meat!” The whole crew screamed, especially the girls. Ollie was really fun and very talented, but he did drink a lot in the evening and had hangovers in the morning, but when we came to shoot he was super-perfect. He was very professional, we didn’t argue too much, we had great communication, he let me get on with my directing. I loved him, I simply loved him.’
A little better was a low-budget British film called The Bruce, shot in Scotland in the spring of 1995. It told the story of Robert the Bruce and his rebellion against the English and the Bishop, played by Oliver, who recognized the Bruce’s claim to be King of Scotland. The bulk of filming took place in Peebles and Ollie was put up at the rather grand Hydro Hotel but, according to Ali Wilson, an extra on the film, he was swiftly kicked out after insulting the guests and rehoused in the Park Hotel. ‘I understand that he was kicked out of there too but in the meantime had discovered the Crown Hotel and loved the people and so decided himself he would bloody well move into the Crown.’
While it had only six small rooms, Ollie was perfectly happy at the Crown since it didn’t have the aloofness of the Hydro. He soon made friends with the builders and plasterers who drank every night in the public bar, although he only narrowly avoided a few fights. ‘Some people tried to have a go at him,’ says Wilson. ‘A couple of young so-called hard men. I don’t think any punches were ever thrown and Ollie gave as good as he got.’ Another time Wilson came into the bar and Ollie was drinking with Brian Blessed, cast as Edward I. Both of them were clearly sozzled, and the more they drank, the louder they got. ‘It was almost like a rock concert, Brian Blessed’s voice was as loud as that, and Ollie wasn’t too far behind. They were trying to upstage each other, almost like a shouting competition.’
As much as Ollie loved the Crown he wasn’t keen on the public bar’s plain wooden benches. Giving one of the staff £400, he ordered, ‘Go along to the local furniture shop and get me a bloody chair.’ So off this guy went and bought a Parker Knoll armchair and carried it back and stuck it in the corner. For the rest of his time there that was Ollie’s place. The chair has remained there ever since.
The Crown was owned by Peter Cassidy, who became a drinking companion during Ollie’s stay, and there were tales of all-night drinking sessions and staff arriving the next morning to find them lying unconscious under tables. For the rest of his life Ollie kept in touch with Cassidy, paying him the odd visit and even holding his sixtieth birthday party at the Crown. ‘Although he didn’t actually make it himself,’ says Wilson. ‘He was taken to bed before the party really got started. Ollie showed up at quarter past seven for about half an hour and then Josephine ushered him upstairs and that was it. The party continued without him.’
The Bruce was shown barely anywhere, a pity since Oliver’s performance proved he could still memorize his lines and hold the attention of an audience with his voice and screen presence. If anything, work became even scarcer afterwards. But he did give a nicely judged performance as General Safan in Jeremiah, which was about the prophet, played by Patrick Dempsey, who heard the call to preach against the moral corruption in ancient Jerusalem, and which was shown on US television in 1998.
Then, at home in Ireland, on 9 May 1997 Oliver heard that his father had passed away. Over the past few years their relationship had remained distant and difficult. They’d chat on the phone, which, according to Josephine, ‘was probably the best way for them to communicate’. While she believes Oliver was very fond of his father, the psychological wound of his perceived cowardice had still not healed. ‘He always used to go on about his father being a conscientious objector. He could never see the strength in that position. And he kept saying how awful it had been as a child to be the son of a conscientious objector.’ Johnny Placett recalls times when Ollie would goad his father, ‘You bloody conscientious objector.’ The words were almost spat into his face.
*
At the funeral both David and Oliver were unable to read the eulogy, so Simon agreed to take on the duty. ‘And I remember thinking, I can’t do this, I was flooding up with tears. Then Ollie went up and just danced on the stage, he didn’t say anything, he just did a little Irish jig and made people laugh, and it stopped me crying and I went up and I was able to read the eulogy.’ It was a touching moment, something singularly lacking when his mother passed away in 1990. Josephine was with Ollie when the news came and she expected to see some emotion from him, but there wasn’t any. ‘I remember hugging him and him not falling to pieces or anything.’
&n
bsp; During the last years of her life Ollie’s relationship with Marcia was perhaps even worse than the one he’d had with Peter. It was tenuous at best, as it had been for most of his life. Then when her husband and Oliver’s stepfather, Bill Sulis, died, Ollie joked on the phone that if she liked he’d come down and dance round his grave like a Red Indian. Not unnaturally, Marcia refused to have him anywhere near the funeral and, according to David, they never spoke to each other again.
With Peter, it had been his cowardice. With Marcia, she’d been the cause of the marriage breaking up. It’s doubtful whether a child ever completely gets over a parent’s divorce, and it certainly affected Oliver’s relationships with the opposite sex. Just as he had been throughout his time with Jacquie, Josephine admits that he was extremely possessive of her, especially if she was in a social situation and talking with someone closer to her own age. ‘Then he’d panic slightly. I don’t know why because I was completely and utterly in love with the man. I guess it was something to do with the age gap between us and also this feeling he had that women always left him. But they didn’t, only he felt they did. And I’d say that was probably insecurity from his mother leaving him when he was young, just being very insecure and not trusting women to stay and be a constant.’
*
With so few opportunities for work, Ollie spent his days peacefully with Josephine at Castle McCarthy or chewing the cud with Pat O’Brien in his pub. They’d watch horse-racing on the telly together, though Ollie rarely if ever bet. He was a fan of the Boat Race, though, because it was a test of strength and endurance, an avid Cambridge man, and followed American football, especially the Pittsburgh Steelers. Sometimes they’d just talk, about subjects ranging from sport to gardening. ‘You could have a great conversation with Ollie, especially before he got to the stage where he was over the top. But he never talked about his films or acting or Hollywood, you’d have to drag it out of him. I was very fond of Oliver. He was a great character.’
Whisky was a favourite tipple at O’Brien’s, but Oliver was happy to drink whatever the person he was with was drinking, even Guinness, of which he wasn’t a great lover. At home Josephine purposely kept Ollie off the whisky, since it had been his downfall for years, and he knew it too. ‘Whisky was when Mr Nasty came out to play,’ says Mark. ‘He used to like single malts, he loved the buzz of it, but you could see the edge that it gave him.’ So at home he drank Gordon’s gin and Schweppes tonic, with plenty of ice. Or Grolsch. For a special race meeting that happened every year at a nearby course he used to mix a punchbowl and invite all his friends to have a drink before they set off. ‘He’d have everything inside, including moonshine,’ recalls O’Brien. ‘It was absolutely lethal. Everybody would get cock-eyed and fall about the place. And if the punchbowl wasn’t finished he’d bring it down to my pub and he’d make everybody there cock-eyed as well.’
Many a time Ollie left O’Brien’s in a less than sober condition and more than once he was stopped by the police for drink-driving. ‘He didn’t have an accident or anything,’ says O’Brien. ‘And when he used to drive under the influence he’d drive at five miles per hour. There was no danger that he was ever going to do any damage.’ After all those Aston Martins, Rollers and Jensens, Oliver’s last car was a Suzuki jeep, which he called ‘the battle wagon’. Sarah remembers it as an amazing car. ‘He could drive it into things, back it into things, and it got him home every time.’
After living in Churchtown for several years Ollie and Josephine felt they had been embraced by the community. And Ollie was always keen to put something back. One morning he read in his local newspaper of a little girl who lived not far away who’d been born with the rare physical condition known as total amelia, that is, with no arms or legs. Her name was Joanne O’Riordan. Immediately, Ollie pledged his support to help fund the medical services she would need. And, as well as contributing handsomely himself, he also fronted the campaign. In 2012 Joanne, then sixteen, addressed the General Assembly of the United Nations. Ollie would have been proud.
Gladiator
Oliver hadn’t made a movie now for two years. It was his old friend Michael Winner who brought him back into the limelight with a role in Parting Shots, a black comedy about a man, played by rock star Chris Rea, who learns he has only six weeks left to live and so decides to take revenge on the people who screwed him over during his life. The film is poor, but Ollie is effective and beguiling as an ageing hit man. Having promised to behave and not drink, Ollie was true to his word. The problems started after filming, when Winner was plagued by a series of bizarre phone calls, often late at night. The conversation would invariably begin, ‘I love you, Michael,’ before sliding into a series of slurred messages. ‘That’s very nice, Oliver,’ Winner would say. ‘Is Josephine there?’ The phone would be handed over and Winner would chat with Josephine while Ollie shouted thoughts and opinions in the background. Suddenly Winner would hear over the line the dull thud of Ollie hitting the floor. ‘I’ve got to go,’ Josephine would say. ‘Oliver needs me.’
While editing the film Winner requested Oliver’s services back in London to dub one particular scene because of an awful sound recording on location. Phoning the Hampstead hotel where Ollie was staying, Winner was told that he had gone out the previous evening, got blind drunk, and been arrested outside the tube station. Winner called Hampstead police station. ‘I understand my friend Mr Reed spent the night with you.’ The desk sergeant replied, ‘We’ve just released him. He was arrested at ten o’clock for being drunk and disorderly, but we haven’t charged him because he was so charming.’ Minutes later a taxi drew up outside Winner’s house and Ollie clambered out. He was in no fit state to dub his voice and the recording session proved useless. It was a far cry from the days when he was known as the best in the business at ‘looping’, often able to do it on the first take. Producers would block out an eight-hour day and Ollie would come in and do it in an hour and a half.
As he left Winner’s house, Oliver turned to his old friend and said, ‘You know, I mustn’t travel without Josephine. She looks after me.’ The two men embraced. ‘He was very humble and ashamed that he’d spent the night in the cells,’ says Winner. ‘And then he went off, and that was the last time I ever saw Oliver Reed.’
Midway through production of Parting Shots Ollie sauntered over to Winner on the set one day to reveal that he’d been approached by Ridley Scott to appear in his forthcoming movie Gladiator, but that the director wanted him to do a reading. In essence this was an audition, something he hadn’t done since his early acting days. ‘I can’t believe it! I mean, I’m a star.’
‘Oliver, don’t fuck with me,’ said Winner. ‘You’re not a fucking star. You’re out of work and you’re not old enough to retire. You haven’t got enough money to retire, so you need a third act to your career. Obviously they think if you’re working with me you can’t be as drunk as people think you are. So go to Ridley and read. End of story, Oliver. And if he wants you to read twice, read twice.’
Josephine likewise urged her husband to swallow his pride and to go and read for Ridley, a director, after all, whom he hugely respected because of The Duellists. ‘And I also made him watch Alien. Although I don’t think Oliver necessarily enjoyed Alien.’
In the end Ollie put in a call to Simon. ‘This Ridley Scott wants me to audition. Now come on!’ Simon was convinced it was a good idea. ‘No, no, don’t worry, I’m going to do it. But a bit fucking odd.’
It wasn’t so much hurt pride that made Ollie reluctant to read for Gladiator: it was more fear. ‘He was pretty terrified at the prospect,’ reveals Simon. ‘Having not done it for so long. But I think Ridley had already made up his mind about casting Oliver. I think he was just making sure Ollie was all right, he just wanted a little confirmation.’ And so it proved. The deal was done. Ollie had the plum role of Proximo, a world-weary slave merchant and ex-gladiator. Little did anyone know at the time how significant a piece of casting it would turn out to be.
<
br /> Gladiator had been long in the planning. The script was developed over a two-year period during which Proximo had emerged as one of the most interesting characters, and it was vital that the right actor be found to play him. ‘The casting of Proximo was daunting,’ recalls producer Douglas Wick. ‘Here was this former gladiator, so we had to have someone credible as a fighter, which many of the great English thespians aren’t. He had to have that larger-than-life quality, that he could send men to their deaths with a twinkle in his eye and you would forgive him for it. We also knew we had Russell Crowe in the lead, so we had to find someone that would be daunting and intimidating to Russell. He also had to be a great actor.’
A shortlist was drawn up featuring pretty much all the top British actors of that age group, with a few Americans thrown into the mix. As discussions developed and the character evolved, Oliver emerged as not only the obvious choice, but the only choice. He had the charisma, he had the gravitas. ‘There were some questions about his viability,’ says Wick. ‘But Ridley spent some time with him and felt very comfortable with him. We also did our own investigations and people said he was behaving professionally and those representing him were assuring us he was a different guy.’
It was reported that the film’s insurers did write to Oliver asking how much he still drank. Ollie returned the form, saying, ‘Only at parties.’ The insurers wrote back, ‘How many parties do you go to?’ They were right to be worried: Oliver was still getting into trouble, having recently gone on Sky News live and told presenter Kay Burley to ‘Shake your funky stuff to me, hot thing.’ She was eight months pregnant at the time and he was clearly drunk. ‘He wouldn’t leave,’ Kay later said. ‘So we had to get security to take him out.’ In January 1999 he was arrested at Heathrow after throwing beer over shoppers at Terminal 1. He was given a caution and released. It was to be his last reported misdemeanour.
What Fresh Lunacy is This? Page 48
