Jeremy Northam: No More Mr. Knightly

Jeremy Northam, the actor who played Gwyneth Paltrow's gentlemanly Mr. Knightley in Emma, talks about his movie with Mira Sorvino, Mimic, and has a few words as well on the spitting death worms of the Gobi desert and on body piercing.

____________________________________

If you haven't seen The Net or Emma, it's likely you've never seen Jeremy Northam, the Brit who was so wonderful in both these films. So go rent them and then we'll talk.

OK, was I right or what? As the snarky bad guy in The Net, Northam was both dangerous and sexy--you knew he had to kill Sandra Bullock, but couldn't they just sleep together one more time? And as Mr. Knightley in Emma, Northam simply took your breath away. The film rightly belonged to Gwyneth Paltrow, but it was Northam who held our interest.

I'm scheduled to meet Northam at his hotel on the Upper East Side in Manhattan. On the way there, I wonder if I'll be able to pick him out on a crowded street. You know how it is--actors are usually shorter and thinner in person, and I'm not sure if Northam's handsome face will be recognizable. Not to worry--I spot him right away standing by the corner of the hotel, smoking a cigarette. Northam is actually more handsome than he appears in his movies. What a pleasant surprise. "Jeremy," I yell and wave. He looks up, startled, and appears ready to bolt. "Don't worry," I assure him, "I'm here to do the interview."

"You scared me," he says. "I just stopped smoking a month ago and--"

"What do you mean? I just saw you having a cigarette." The cigarette has disappeared in the 30 seconds it took me to walk over to him.

"Yes, yes, I know. I started last night again. I'm so bloody pissed at myself. I stopped smoking, gave up coffee and tea, and stopped eating bread."

I moan. "Of course you're smoking, then. I hate when people give up four or five things the same day, it's a recipe for disaster. Your body goes crazy and starts to feel deprived so then you go back to those things with a vengeance--it's so typical."

"No, I don't believe that," says Northam. "I got in late last night and I had to get up early, so I went back to smoking. But I'll give it up in a day or two, you'll see."

We walk into the lobby of the hotel where I wait while Northam runs upstairs to get a jacket. He's down in two seconds and we start walking to Central Park. Outside on the corner, Northam turns and waves to a redheaded woman getting into a cab.

"Your girlfriend?" I ask.

"Yes, she is. But we can't talk about her. It's my rule. I know it's boring but I feel I have to keep some things private."

"OK then. But just a few questions. Is she an actress? Do you live together?"

"No, she's not an actress. You can't have two actors together, then it's just a nightmare, isn't it?"

"It would appear that way. But lots of actors feel the only people who understand them, and understand their way of life, are other actors."

"Not me. And we don't live together. But she's from Australia, and I think she may be moving back there. So, please, let's not talk about it because it's going to break my heart."

Heartbreak--my favorite topic. But I'll let it go for now. I clip the microphone to Northam's lapel. "OK, now just tell us your whole life story."

"Oh, I don't know how much there is to say," he says as we get settled on a bench in the middle of the park. Around us, a weird assortment of New Yorkers have made themselves comfortable. Some have taken off their shoes, some didn't have shoes to start with. We keep our feet clad.

"If one had a fantastically difficult upbringing," Northam continues, "or spent time in jail or had a nasty substance abuse problem, then it makes much better copy. But none of those things were true for me. My childhood wasn't boring, but it felt very conventional. I'm the last of four kids. Dad is an English teacher and a theater professor and Mum taught [home economics] in between having children. I went to a school in Cambridge called Kings College Choir School, which was a great place, very musical."

"Where have you been till now? I don't think anyone ever heard of you before The Net."

"I was working, Martha. I was in England doing theater, and a bit of telly, and just getting experience. It's only you Americans who think that until you make it in movies, you aren't really working."

"And it's only you Brits who feel like you have to come here to America and be in movies before you've really made it."

"Well, I'd like to think that I'll be one of those actors who will be working into my sixties and seventies, someone who doesn't just get a good five or ten years. I'd like to have a career that spans decades."

"Like who--Anthony Hopkins?"

Northam creases his brow. "Well, Nigel Hawthorne also comes to mind. He's had a brilliant career."

"Oh, please, Jeremy. There's no way you want to grow up to be Nigel Hawthorne."

Northam sort of glares at me. "Pete Postlethwaite's had that kind of career--"

"OK, I give. Now, tell about your theater experiences."

"When I finished school I took a year and a half off, because I knew I wanted to act. I had a place booked at a university near London, at a place called Bedford College, and I figured I'd go there and study English when I was done with this acting thing. I had never had a job in my life. I was one of those kids who went to school on Saturday mornings instead of going to work--"

"A spoiled brat?" I inquire politely.

"No, no, not at all. People always think I'm a public school brat, which I'm not at all..."

Pages: 1 2 3