Eddie Redmayne in My Week With Marilyn.
Eddie Redmayne is rapidly shrinking into the slippery dark brown leather sofa upon which he sits, his head is disappearing under the neckline of his navy blue jumper, and his hands are raised ready to cover his ears. The cause of his discomfort? Me, sadly, as I read aloud some comments I've found on the various fansites dedicated to his very being. "Eddie: Flawless, ethereal, could 'get it' wearing tweed any day of the week," I read out to him.
"Wearing tweed?" he repeats in his very British accent, following it with a huge burst of laughter.
"Eddie is possibly the best human in the world," I continue, as he shrinks further. "Oh GOD!" "Eddie is so charming, and I am legit attracted to him."
"Legit?" he guffaws. "LEGIT?"
For those dedicated fans of Redmayne, 29, of which the most cursory search of the internet would indicate there are thousands, the end of this year is going to be a good one. It sees the release of My Week With Marilyn, an autobiographical account of the week Colin Clark (Redmayne), a recently graduated film obsessive, spent babysitting Marilyn Monroe in 1956 as she filmed The Prince And The Showgirl. It also sees the start of a stint at the Donmar Warehouse in Richard II. Further to that will be Birdsong, the BBC adaptation of Sebastian Faulks's best-selling book. After years of critical acclaim, winning both an Olivier and a Tony award for his performance in John Logan's Red (a play about Mark Rothko) at the Donmar and on Broadway respectively, as well as supporting roles in films alongside Julianne Moore (Savage Grace), Cate Blanchett (Elizabeth: The Golden Age) and Natalie Portman (The Other Boleyn Girl), it feels like Redmayne's "moment" has finally come.
Michelle Williams. Photograph: Allstar/Weinstein Company
"I see that there's a timing aspect of it all," he says, slightly squirming again (for an actor, he seems to find talking about himself relatively mortifying), "but any one of these things could collapse. I've found in the past that the critical reaction to a piece, if it's damned, will colour my memory of what the experience was. I had a wonderful time on Marilyn, a wonderful time on Birdsong and, hopefully, I'll have a wonderful time on this [he brandishes the yellow highlighter-heavy script for Richard II sitting on the table in front of him] so I'm trying not to think outside of that because it can pollute the experience."
My Week With Marilyn is undeniably Redmayne's highest-profile project to date. The cast reads like a Bafta fellowship guest list. Kenneth Branagh, Dame Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi, his friends Emma Watson and Dominic Cooper, and the piece de resistance, the lone American, Michelle Williams, as Marilyn Monroe. With his gentle disposition – the impeccable manners seem second nature rather than an actorly affectation – you rather wonder how Redmayne will cope with the spotlight. "The word 'buzz' worries me if I'm honest," he says, before pausing, and skilfully steering the conversation on to more familiar ground. "Michelle and I were there in most scenes and, every day, another bastion of the British establishment would come in and play opposite us; it was wonderful."
I bring up that it must have been an exciting prospect for him to act alongside Williams, having confessed in a past interview to being such a fan of … "Dawson's Creek!," he laughs. "That's coming back to haunt me, I should never have fucking said that. But she is extraordinary. She makes the part look effortless."
Since graduating from Cambridge in 2003 (he got a 2:1 in art history), Redmayne has worked almost constantly, playing paedophiles and boys who sleep with their mothers via the odd costume drama across film, television and the theatre. "What's really interesting about actors," he says, in that thoughtful, careful way that envelops all of his answers, "is that we all have opinions on how people's careers look, but I think you never have any idea of your own, or what other people think of you."
Marilyn sees him playing his most "normal" character to date. "I'm six years older than Colin," he agrees, "but I'm an Old Etonian, too. Weirdly, I found it just as challenging as playing the character I did in Savage Grace [the aforementioned mother lover]. What's been lovely is the variety of it all, and America has been very helpful for that. So much of our industry here is period drama, and given my background, that is what you slot into. But in America, because you're English, they send you off to everything because they can't bracket you. They'll go, 'Can you play an adopted native American Indian? OK, go audition for it, why not?'"
Redmayne is not from a clan of actors; he comes from a family of bankers, a world which he attempted to understand with a stint of work experience while at school. "It was the greatest feat of acting ever working there," he says, "having to pretend I knew what a share was when I didn't have a clue."
He's clearly far more at home in the acting world, but maybe there's a hankering for the 9 to 5. "I think all actors have a similar deal," he says. "You want some people who understand. Although it looks great – and is great – there are also shoddy moments when you feel really rotten, and when it's going well, you're not allowed to complain. Your actor friends will understand the nuances of a painful director, or the loneliness of being … OK, in a beautiful hotel room somewhere exotic. But you're by yourself for six months, and you're thinking, 'Oh God, I wish I could share it with someone.' I'm trying to buy a house and set some sense of roots because otherwise you're constantly chasing one job after another, and you look back and you've had all these very extraordinary experiences with extraordinary people, but there's not a line of continuity to it."
Perhaps one of his fans could fill the void the nomadic lifestyle creates? "I have this horrific thing where I'm really bad with names and faces," he grimaces. "I have an appalling memory. Someone will come up to me in the street and go, 'Eddie!', and I'll try and give myself time by going into overdrive, 'Hey, hi! Nice to see you!' and start a whole conversation because I can't distinguish between who I know and who I don't. My worst fear is somebody who I went to school with when I was eight coming up and me going, 'Sorry, who are you?' It's my worst nightmare."
So does he have groupies following him? "No," he laughs. "Benedict Cumberbatch is a mate of mine, and we did a charity show at the Old Vic together. There was this group of women outside the theatre who name themselves 'the Cumberbitches' and follow him round the world. I have nothing like that. I really wouldn't know what to do with the situation." Maybe, but with his "legit" attractiveness, appeal in tweed, and career explosion imminent, it's surely only a matter of time before those Cumberbitches (Redmayniacs?) come Eddie's way too.
The Guardian
"Eddie is possibly the best human in the world," I continue, as he shrinks further. "Oh GOD!" "Eddie is so charming, and I am legit attracted to him."
"Legit?" he guffaws. "LEGIT?"
For those dedicated fans of Redmayne, 29, of which the most cursory search of the internet would indicate there are thousands, the end of this year is going to be a good one. It sees the release of My Week With Marilyn, an autobiographical account of the week Colin Clark (Redmayne), a recently graduated film obsessive, spent babysitting Marilyn Monroe in 1956 as she filmed The Prince And The Showgirl. It also sees the start of a stint at the Donmar Warehouse in Richard II. Further to that will be Birdsong, the BBC adaptation of Sebastian Faulks's best-selling book. After years of critical acclaim, winning both an Olivier and a Tony award for his performance in John Logan's Red (a play about Mark Rothko) at the Donmar and on Broadway respectively, as well as supporting roles in films alongside Julianne Moore (Savage Grace), Cate Blanchett (Elizabeth: The Golden Age) and Natalie Portman (The Other Boleyn Girl), it feels like Redmayne's "moment" has finally come.
'Michelle Williams and I were in most scenes and every day another bastion of the British establishment would come in'
Michelle Williams. Photograph: Allstar/Weinstein Company "I see that there's a timing aspect of it all," he says, slightly squirming again (for an actor, he seems to find talking about himself relatively mortifying), "but any one of these things could collapse. I've found in the past that the critical reaction to a piece, if it's damned, will colour my memory of what the experience was. I had a wonderful time on Marilyn, a wonderful time on Birdsong and, hopefully, I'll have a wonderful time on this [he brandishes the yellow highlighter-heavy script for Richard II sitting on the table in front of him] so I'm trying not to think outside of that because it can pollute the experience."
My Week With Marilyn is undeniably Redmayne's highest-profile project to date. The cast reads like a Bafta fellowship guest list. Kenneth Branagh, Dame Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi, his friends Emma Watson and Dominic Cooper, and the piece de resistance, the lone American, Michelle Williams, as Marilyn Monroe. With his gentle disposition – the impeccable manners seem second nature rather than an actorly affectation – you rather wonder how Redmayne will cope with the spotlight. "The word 'buzz' worries me if I'm honest," he says, before pausing, and skilfully steering the conversation on to more familiar ground. "Michelle and I were there in most scenes and, every day, another bastion of the British establishment would come in and play opposite us; it was wonderful."
I bring up that it must have been an exciting prospect for him to act alongside Williams, having confessed in a past interview to being such a fan of … "Dawson's Creek!," he laughs. "That's coming back to haunt me, I should never have fucking said that. But she is extraordinary. She makes the part look effortless."
Since graduating from Cambridge in 2003 (he got a 2:1 in art history), Redmayne has worked almost constantly, playing paedophiles and boys who sleep with their mothers via the odd costume drama across film, television and the theatre. "What's really interesting about actors," he says, in that thoughtful, careful way that envelops all of his answers, "is that we all have opinions on how people's careers look, but I think you never have any idea of your own, or what other people think of you."
Marilyn sees him playing his most "normal" character to date. "I'm six years older than Colin," he agrees, "but I'm an Old Etonian, too. Weirdly, I found it just as challenging as playing the character I did in Savage Grace [the aforementioned mother lover]. What's been lovely is the variety of it all, and America has been very helpful for that. So much of our industry here is period drama, and given my background, that is what you slot into. But in America, because you're English, they send you off to everything because they can't bracket you. They'll go, 'Can you play an adopted native American Indian? OK, go audition for it, why not?'"
'You're by yourself for six months, and you're thinking: Oh God, I wish I could share it with someone'
Redmayne is not from a clan of actors; he comes from a family of bankers, a world which he attempted to understand with a stint of work experience while at school. "It was the greatest feat of acting ever working there," he says, "having to pretend I knew what a share was when I didn't have a clue."
He's clearly far more at home in the acting world, but maybe there's a hankering for the 9 to 5. "I think all actors have a similar deal," he says. "You want some people who understand. Although it looks great – and is great – there are also shoddy moments when you feel really rotten, and when it's going well, you're not allowed to complain. Your actor friends will understand the nuances of a painful director, or the loneliness of being … OK, in a beautiful hotel room somewhere exotic. But you're by yourself for six months, and you're thinking, 'Oh God, I wish I could share it with someone.' I'm trying to buy a house and set some sense of roots because otherwise you're constantly chasing one job after another, and you look back and you've had all these very extraordinary experiences with extraordinary people, but there's not a line of continuity to it."
Perhaps one of his fans could fill the void the nomadic lifestyle creates? "I have this horrific thing where I'm really bad with names and faces," he grimaces. "I have an appalling memory. Someone will come up to me in the street and go, 'Eddie!', and I'll try and give myself time by going into overdrive, 'Hey, hi! Nice to see you!' and start a whole conversation because I can't distinguish between who I know and who I don't. My worst fear is somebody who I went to school with when I was eight coming up and me going, 'Sorry, who are you?' It's my worst nightmare."
So does he have groupies following him? "No," he laughs. "Benedict Cumberbatch is a mate of mine, and we did a charity show at the Old Vic together. There was this group of women outside the theatre who name themselves 'the Cumberbitches' and follow him round the world. I have nothing like that. I really wouldn't know what to do with the situation." Maybe, but with his "legit" attractiveness, appeal in tweed, and career explosion imminent, it's surely only a matter of time before those Cumberbitches (Redmayniacs?) come Eddie's way too.
The Guardian
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