The Last Word

The actor on meeting Winston Churchill, what John Wayne taught him, the secret to a lasting marriage, and the movie role he regrets the most

Every actor has a role he or she regrets turning down. What is yours?

I never made that kind of mistake. I only made the ones in the opposite direction — what I didn’t say no to.

If you could tell your younger self not to do a certain movie, which would it be?

The Swarm. It’s about [killer] bees. I did it without reading the script because I said, “Who’s in it?” And they gave me this great big star list: Henry Fonda, Olivia de Havil- land, José Ferrer. One day we were all having a conversation with live bees above us, and suddenly we noticed all these little black dots on our shirts. The bees were shitting on us. And so the first review was in, but we didn’t know it at the time.

Who was your hero?

Winston Churchill. I was in a youth club when I was a boy, and I was the head of a little drama group. I was about 14, and he was one of our patrons and used to come every year and have tea with us. He was lovely and very funny, and very nice to us.

What advice do you wish you could give your younger self?

If you’re going through hell, keep going. I came out of the army when I was 20 and immediately succumbed to malaria I’d picked up in Korea. I came out the other side, but you’ve got to keep going. Also, you can’t ruin my career now by giving me a bad review. I got to a certain age where I went, “It’s all right, mate. Stop worrying.”

You almost retired in the Nineties, but Jack Nicholson talked you out of it. How did he convince you?

I got a script from a producer, and he said, “You play the father, not the lover,” and I thought, “Oh, I’m retired, it’s over.” I immigrated to Miami for the winter, and Jack was living there and we became friends. Jack said, “I’ve got a movie called Blood and Wine, and there’s a very good part for you in it,” and he talked me into doing it. The lesson was: Never give up.

What’s the most selfindulgent purchase you've made?

In the Sixties, after I’d just made Alfie, The Ipcress File and Zulu, I had enough money to buy a Rolls-Royce, so I went out and bought one. I couldn’t drive, so

I had to rent a chauffeur. Very expensive, and I never did anything that stupid again. Once you become famous, you don’t want a Rolls-Royce, because everybody looks to see who’s inside it. I’ve now got gray cars that everyone drives. No one ever looks in my car.

You’ve been married for 47 years. What’s the secret?

You must have separate bathrooms. You’ve got to be able to spend some time out of the way of each other. We never share a bathroom. Never. If you start to get into trouble, buy a new bathroom.

You were one of the first major actors to play gay roles, in movies like California Suite and Deathtrap. That’s more common today, but what reactions did you hear at the time?

It was a bit dicey to do. A couple of people said, “People will think you’re gay.” I said, “No, they won’t.

They know I’m an actor.” I loved doing that. Many of my friends were gay, so I studied them and their movements and speech. And the parts were so very good. Chris Reeve and I had to do a romantic scene [in Deathtrap]. Neither of us had ever kissed another man before, so we drank a couple of brandies. Then when it came time for the dialogue, we couldn’t remember it. So the kiss was a bit of a disaster.

In 2007, you released Cained, a mixtape of chill-out electronic remixes. Why that genre?

It’s more clever than the rest — smoother and, you know, more romantic. I love it. I made the tapes for my family. But Cained wasn’t a success, so they never asked me to make another one.

What are the most important rules you live by?

I don’t go to church but I do believe in God. If you were me, you would have to, because how the hell this happened to me, I don’t know. I was a nobody from nowhere who knew nothing and set out to do something.

You met John Wayne early in your career. What did you learn from him?

Wayne said, “Never wear suede shoes,” pointing at my shoes. I said, “Why not?” He said, “’Cause you’re gonna be famous, and you’re gonna be in the toilet taking a piss, and the guy next door to you is going to turn and recognize you and piss all over your shoes, kid.” I gave all my suede shoes away to people who were unknown.

Did you pass along his advice?

No. I didn’t mention a word. I wanted them to take the shoes.

DAVID BROWNE

Caine’s latest book, ‘Blowing the Bloody Doors Off,’ is out now.