Colin Firth: «I’m tired of being serious!»

At first, it seems to me that he chose a strange place for a meeting. Docks of St. Catherine. Old docks converted into luxury housing, offices and galleries. Narrow streets, red brick pavements, ancient blocks sticking out of the walls, which now have only a decorative function. A copper plate on one house says that it was here that Charles Dickens sought inspiration for his realistic descriptions of the London lower classes, and it was here, well, approximately at this place, that the refuge of the Jew Fagin and the lair of the villain Bill Sykes were located. Here, Oliver Twist desperately meandered along the once dirty alleys in an attempt to escape from his unenviable fate as an orphan from the London slums … Here, in the depths of the block, I will see … «Such a funny place, a narrow shop window, behind it are three tables and a counter.» — «And the name?» “The name is… Lunch Spot, I think. People from local offices dine there.”

Actually nothing strange. And the resolute refusal to meet in more pathetic places, and the choice of an obscure cafe hidden behind the facade of London chic for three tables with sandwiches, and the only waiter, about twenty years old and with dreadlocks, who does not make an event out of a visiting star, and the visitor himself, in a black sweater and scarf, which, according to the habit of a typical Briton, put his jacket on a high bar stool and sat on it … All this now does not seem exotic to me. There is nothing of Prince Charming about Colin Firth. But there is softness and unexpected cordiality. When he sees me, he stands up — in fact, with his height, he only had to lower his foot from the crossbar — and we move to a table. He stops the dreadlocked boy from carrying his cup of cocoa. Don’t worry, he says. And he carries it himself. He explains that he met a friend here, he works in the same office nearby, and had lunch here. The tradition, and she is already thirty years old, has been used since student times. “The owners of the institution are changing, but we are still visitors. Usually it’s the exact opposite. But, you know, this is London. Habits stick here,” explains Firth. In his case — the case of fame, the Oscar and everything that goes with it — is not quite usual. And I would continue to wonder if he wasn’t sitting in front of me right now, with his attentive strangely light brown eyes, with his soft manner, with his typically British way of speaking, as if breathing out words. It’s just that he is light and natural, like breathing, this man, stretching out his legs and leaning back on the back of a not very comfortable chair.

• Start life from scratch with Bridget Jones

Doesn’t appearance matter? After all, you have exceptional external data.

K.F.: You want to ask if I feel handsome? It’s funny: my appearance is completely neutral — a face that can withstand any expression, depending on what effect I want to achieve. Now, however, I know that there is something about me that actually attracts women. But it’s definitely not what I see in the mirror. Still, I think it’s all about your habit of these «noble» roles of mine — to all these Mr. Darcy, Lord Essex. In Pride and Prejudice, as you know, I came out of the pond in clothes — the male version of the «wet shirt show». Literally the day after this series on TV, British ladies went crazy en masse, and I began the interview with the phrase: “Tell me that I am a sex symbol, I will get up and leave.” Because I don’t really have anything in common with Mr. Darcy. Moreover, both with Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, and with Darcy from Bridget Jones’s Diary. They are typical, even mythological Britons. And they suffer from typical national male complexes — that you can’t show your feelings, you can’t openly express yourself, you have to be significant, not talk a lot, exude reliability. Observe the so-called dignity. Save face. And I’m arranged much simpler: I like it — I smile, I don’t like it — I frown, I’m upset — I don’t hide it, I rejoice — I laugh. I make stupid mistakes. Bridget Jones is much closer to me with her constant «tricks». And I talk a lot — did you notice? And all about myself—Darcy would have condemned that outright.

There is an apology — you answer questions …

K.F.: Yes, there are no apologies. In fact, I don’t like to talk about myself. There is nothing particularly interesting here. And there is no special merit in your interest in me. Everything that happened to me — from the first role to the Oscar — is pure luck. Some in these cases talk about a combination of ability and luck. And I am convinced — pure, unalloyed luck. I know actors — my classmates, just colleagues — who, alas, are unknown, but they are much more talented than me and many who are famous. I assure you, this is not ostentatious modesty. And not modesty at all — I’m just sure that success is the result of fortunate circumstances. I’m lucky and all. This is a completely natural assessment of what is happening for me. I never wanted much. I always have enough of what I have. Now it’s even too much. Not my scale, not my size. I mean… volumes of fame. It is quite capable of depriving the mind, even if you had some. Here, however, it is salutary that I am an Englishman. It is in America that you can behave like a star, demand special attention, and a special trailer on the set, and a personal assistant … There, with their cult of stars, they will swallow it. And here in Britain … not only will they not swallow it, but they will spit it out on you!

But after all, you have long been more than a famous actor — you can’t get used to this?

K.F.: But until recently, I practically did not play the main roles. And I liked it. I played roles in an amicable way, honestly secondary ones. The first time I was the only one the director wanted to see in his film, most recently in «Lonely Man» Tom Ford. And before that, there was always an audition, an approval, there was always someone who claimed the role just like me. This is fine. That’s the way it should be. But on the other hand, I always worked, I never had the problem of most actors — the problem of paying rent. They told me: you have the same roles, these your aristocrats, — and I answered: but I don’t know what unemployment, the scourge of our workshop, is. In addition, competition disciplines. It happens like this: you become an actor and do it at forty, because you looked good at nineteen. But you’re not nineteen anymore. The motivation must change. You need to understand why you are in this place, on business or by inertia. In general, I believe that to live is to seek motivation for life. That’s why discipline is important — to find them. Discipline is not an external force, but an internal need for all who are going to live in a community. discipline and resistance. There is no development without resistance… By the way, this is being told to you by a person who for many years was the embodiment of the denial of any discipline and external influences. I think I even became an actor out of disdain for discipline.

Is it possible to choose a profession that involves competition and the struggle for success, and at the same time despise discipline?

K.F.: It is explainable. I grew up in several countries — my father taught in Nigeria, and we lived there, then there was England, then the USA, then again England. Circumstances changed, and each time it was necessary to take root again. As a result, I turned out to be a difficult teenager. Nothing particularly terrible — a complete denial of chemistry with physics, a guitar, a rock band, pierced ears, weed. I grew up among different cultures, for me there are no racial and class boundaries between people. But there were no authorities. Any authority disgusted me. What was a well-known trauma for the family: my parents are both teachers, my father is a historian of the most classical academic warehouse … I defined my usual teenage laziness as a determination to resist the System. If I was required to read Shakespeare, I read Thomas Mann. If it was said to listen to Brahms, I listened exclusively to Hendrix. Also, I studied at a private school. What does it mean — in a boys’ school. Only boys. The girls were something beautiful and unattainable. Unattainable beautiful. Now I think that I started going to amateur theater mainly in order to meet girls. And in order to create their own space — their own world, which certainly will not be invaded by foreign — and alien to me — authorities. I was the classic adult pesky teenager—a nihilist with a guitar, stacks of books, and a total reluctance to go to university gracefully. And since my father lost the fight with me for the university, I became an actor. It so happened.

Do you attribute all your successes to circumstances?

K.F.: Perhaps … from me you will not hear anything else. I really believe in this thought from Lennon’s song: life is just what happens while we are making plans. That’s how I try to live — just a life, not according to a plan. Until recently, I did not know what I would do next year — and in-demand actors usually paint their lives two years ahead. And now I try not to paint anything. I don’t know what will happen in a year, what roles will be, what films. I do not agree when the studios offer to sign a contract at once, say, for three roles, the so-called package contracts. Life is not something that can be packaged. It seems to me that the recognition of her spontaneity is a sign of growing up. Therefore, I easily agree to her most unexpected proposals.

And what life has unexpected offers for you?

K.F.: When I had a serious relationship with Meg (Meg Tilly — American actress and writer. — Approx. ed.) And she decided that acting was nonsense, I did not argue with her and even with some enthusiasm responded to the idea of ​​​​moving to Meg’s homeland, to Canada. We lived for four years in a town in the forests of British Columbia, I worked as a carpenter, God knows who else … For two years I was not an actor at all. But then I felt that I was … far from my own life. And went back to London, broke up with Meg. It was hard for me — we already had Will, it was painful even physically to leave him. But I knew that in fact we would not part with him, but we had to live our lives. And to taste it right now, here… You know, I often re-read Faulkner’s Light in August. I re-read it because of his descriptions of the heat, the smells of the village, the dust in the sawmill… Remember? Faulkner was thirty-five when he wrote this. And he already knew that it was necessary to live by this — not by opinions, not by positions, but by feeling. Positions — you need to have them, and live — with the feeling that you live. If you learn to just be, the fear of non-being recedes.

Such fear usually visits us with the onset of a midlife crisis …

K.F.: I’ve had it for twenty years now. From thirty, from the beginning of middle age proper. Now I’m not so worried about my own limb. But it makes me extremely sad when I imagine my children losing me. On a personal level, I am not afraid of death. I just didn’t want to be there. Pure Woody Allen, I get it. But still, children are the best way to overcome the midlife crisis. When someone appears who is more important to you than yourself. When you feel a responsibility that simply cannot be canceled, it has already been born and is growing, this responsibility. Parents owe their children, and children owe their parents… in my opinion, nothing. If children are still close with aged parents, either they are interested in being together, or … children are good people. All life is a test of our good will, a provocation to be better.

You are said to be the perfect father…

K.F.: Is it possible to be an ideal? In my opinion, the maximum possible is to always be for your children … available. Always be in their «access zone». In general, I try to just be present in their lives so that they always have the feeling that I am there. And it can’t be that I don’t have time for them. I always have time for them. I never even have a choice — family or work. Obviously family. And when you choose such a position of your body in reality, everything develops as you would like, completely by itself. For example, I manage to spend a lot of time with Will, the eldest son — he lives in Los Angeles — because now I shoot a lot in America. Children are a two-way street. They really need me less than I need them. You have to constantly train your brain to answer their increasingly complex questions. And in my case, you also need to answer these questions in Italian: my younger sons are bilingual. Although I will not claim that I learned Italian because of them.

Then why?

K. F. K. F.: Perhaps this is the most romantic thing that I have done in my life — I learned to speak Livia’s native language (Livia Giuggioli, film producer, Firth’s wife. — Approx. ed.). When you learn the language of the one you love, you become closer to him. Almost a physical feeling.

Are there authorities in your life?

K.F.: A little. Gandhi. And my grandfather, my mother’s father. Gandhi — because of his willingness to sacrifice himself to what he considered greater than himself. For fighting in the most hopeless circumstances. Aware of hopelessness, felt the impossibility of giving up the fight. He was devoted to justice, as he understood it. And grandfather… He was a doctor in India in the 30s. He treated not the British — the Indians. This, in my opinion, says it all.

You are fifty, and you are at the top — personal life, career …

K.F.: … but there is a descent. This is how I see the summit — not as a goal reached, but as the beginning of a descent. But going down is easier than climbing. I don’t like formal clothes, a tie is a whole test for me. You see, age… it’s like a long-awaited opportunity to loosen the knot on a tie. A very special pleasure is to loosen the tie.