I admire and resent these men at the same time.
Richard Burton, a fantastic actor with an incredible voice, who destroyed his body and robbed us all (including himself) of much joy by dying at age 58.
Oliver Reed, an actor who seemed to glide effortlessly from displaying barely controlled rage to uproarious laughter in the blink of an eye, dead at age 61.
Richard Harris. He lived to 72 and was rediscovered as an actor AFTER age 55 or so, but even he knew his drinking had shortened his life. He was larger than life and loved living. I loved his stories - even those not about drinking. And now he’s dead.
Peter O’Toole, still kicking at age 75. His career has rebounded lately after many spotty years because of the after effects of drinking.
I admired the talents of all of these men, but I also resent them (even though I have no right to) for denying the world their amazing talents for something as foolish and empty as booze. I am not againt drinking. I just see no reason to worship a false god like booze offering up your talents and abilities as a sacrifice to drunkeness.
I wish Richard Harris was still around. I would love to hear his story about he and Peter O’Toole playing tricks on one another because O’Toole got a part that Harris originally wanted. Harris told the story on the Tonight Show sometime after Johnny Carson retired if I remember correctly. One of the funniest damn stories I ever heard.
O’Toole was the best of the bunch. He had charm and, at one time, incredible good looks. Plus he wasn’t a jerk. Harris and Burton had enough talent they could get away with being assh@les. My favorite was Reed. Alas, he was an incredible jerk and ruined any chance to be a big star.
Interesting link to a 2-part article on the legendary British actors.
But when it comes to hard-drinking, womanizing, and adventure, the Australian was the original, and the master of them all:
Rats! Just went to Amazon and the book will not be available here until June 24!
I seldom watch Letterman, not finding it very amusing, but one night maybe a decade ago I happened to have it on when in walked - actually staggered - the guest, Peter O’Toole. Drunk but in command of his voice.
Halfway through the interview which had been rather flat, O’Toole turned to Letterman and said, “What did you say your name was?”
"My God," she cried out to her husband. "It's Humphrey Bogart!"
"What about him?" her husband shouted back.
"He's in our front yard." "Well, invite him in." Bogart sat down for breakfast with the couple and their children, wolfing down bacon and eggs while mesmerising them with tales of Hollywood.
When he'd finished he stood up, said thank you politely and then walked out the way he'd come in.
Near the end of his days, Bogart reflected upon his life and declared that things had gone downhill after a single bad decision. "I should never have switched," he said, "from Scotch to Martinis."
Classic!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hi9TVDcctkY
What a moment in Oscar history when Rex Harrison announced the winner of the Best Actress by saying the award goes to, "All my Fair Ladies." (Julie Andrews for Mary Poppins, and Audry Hepburn for My Fair Lady)