'If I had botox, I'd never work again!'
Philip Glenister tells why his famously craggy face will always be his fortune - and says he's really a secret feminist
With hindsight, he says, the sudden need for reading glasses to negotiate a script should have been a giveaway: Philip Glenister is not getting any younger. The 51-year-old actor's most famous role, as roguish cop Gene Hunt in Life On Mars, may have placed him permanently in the 70s in the public's mind, but in real life, time marches - nay, gallops - on.
Still, finding out the script that required these new glasses involved him playing a grandfather was even more of a shocker. 'I remember thinking, "Oh s***, I'm a grandfather here." A grandfather, for Christ's sake! It seemed like only yesterday I was shocked at being asked to play dads. The first time that happened was in about 1995 and I was thinking, "Oh my God, am I 40? S***, I suppose I am." But to be on a set being introduced to the kids who're going to play your grandchildren…' He covers his head with his hands. 'Well, I didn't see it coming.'
Alas, a successful actor ages more publicly than he would like. When I ask if it was last year or the year before that he hit the big 5-0 he says, 'Don't rub it in.' It was last year, and he's now 51.
'When you're starting out you think you've made it when you get in the Times birthday list. You read, "Philip Glenister, act-tor, 36", and feel all smug. When it gets to the point you're reading, "Philip Glenister, 49" you think, "Woah! Leave it now. I still want to play 45."'
Still, it could be worse. He could be an actress, which generally means that once you pass 40 you sit at home watching all the leading lady roles go to either a 23-year-old or Helen Mirren. Actually, he's been all jokes up till now ('Botox? Are you kidding me? If they started smoothing me out, I'd never work again'), but becomes suddenly serious. His wife, Beth Goddard, is a 45-year-old actress. When they met at a party in 1997, they were working as much as each other; ditto when they got married in 2006. But since their daughters Millie and Charlotte arrived, in 2002 and 2005 respectively, his career has been the dominant one - though not through choice.
'We didn't design it like that. It's the way it turned out. Without doubt it's easier to be a bloke in this profession, especially getting older. You can make the switch from leading actor to character actor more easily. There are still too few parts for women of a certain age.' He says that while there's work out there for women - his wife has just come back from a week's filming - there still isn't parity.
'The problem is when a good part like that does come up, they either go for the same old people or there's a huge amount of competition for one role. So it's tough and it's a shame because I think women of a certain age have experience and we need to see more of that on mainstream TV.' Indeed, one of the attractions of his latest role - in BBC1 drama From There To Here - was the fact his love interest is played by his former Life On Mars co-star Liz White.
In the three-part series, set against the backdrop of the IRA bombing of Manchester city centre in 1996, his supposedly happily married character Daniel Cotton embarks on an affair with a cleaner, Joanne, after they're both caught up in the explosion. It was important, he says, that the actress playing his mistress was of a similar age. 'We were adamant we didn't want Daniel to be seen with a much younger woman because everyone would have said, "Oh well, he's just in that for the sex." It was imperative we got an actress of a certain age, who'd been there, seen it and done it, so you could see why he fell for Joanne and why he was still in love with his wife. There wasn't too big an age difference between them. I'm pleased at how that was handled. It was responsible.'
Before you start marvelling at the Gene-Hunt-turns-feminist-champion shocker, hold on. A quick check shows that White is actually 35 - 16 years his junior - so the age difference is still pretty whopping. Maybe things are more dire in the TV business than we think if this is his idea of progressive. Anyway, he says the idea of playing a man in the midst of emotional turmoil - 'a form of mid-life crisis' - was appealing. 'A lot of it is the classic stuff. He's happily married, his children have grown up, he's doing OK, got a good business, a nice house in Cheshire - what's not to like? Then he's caught up in this bomb and it's a catalyst for him to suddenly start questioning, "Is this it? Is this all there is to life?"'
Of course, things then get complex. Daniel not only embarks on an affair with Joanne but falls in love with her. 'It raises all those questions about whether you can be in love with two people. Does that make him a misogynist? Does it make him a b*****d? One of the things that appealed about the drama was that it's about families: the complexities, absurdities, tragedies and love of families. It's something we can all identify with because we all have families. It's a very human story.'
But you can also see why the role in particular appealed. Since the success of Life On Mars and then its 80s-set sequel Ashes To Ashes, he's been doing that difficult-tightrope thing of trying to exploit the 'macho' image we know and love, yet trying not to be typecast by it. He said yes to the rather interesting documentary series For The Love Of Cars (currently showing on Channel 4) not, perish the thought, because he wanted to be the next Jeremy Clarkson, but because 'it was something that interested me'. It was born directly out of Gene Hunt's 'Fire up the Quattro' catchphrase from Ashes To Ashes. 'So much of the big iconic dramas of that era were about cars. The car was another co-star, and the idea of looking at the history behind some of the cars appealed.'
On the other hand, he gets tetchy if you suggest he's blokey in real life, and his CV is actually more varied than a lot of people realise. He cites his roles in two BBC serialisations. 'In Vanity Fair I played a character (William Dobbin, a loyal, dignified gentleman) who was the opposite of someone like Gene Hunt. Then the Cranford character (land agent Edmund Carter, a passionate believer in education for the lower classes) - again the opposite. These are much more sensitive characters. I'm nothing like these supposedly macho characters I portray.' At home he says he tries to be macho, but no one listens. 'I have a wife and two daughters. Enough said. Even the cats are female in my house. I'm right down, fifth billing in my own house.' Still the face - gloriously un-Botoxed - is that of a bruiser, no? 'You get people thinking, "Yeah, you've got a few pock marks, a few lines, therefore you've got to play hard nuts", but why? Richard Burton had those things… it didn't do him any harm, did it?'
Actually, he loves the Gene Hunt thing, and laughs uproariously about his character having been voted the third most iconic TV cop of all time (behind Columbo and Sherlock Holmes). 'He beat Morse and Poirot,' he points out. 'It's all a bit of fun, isn't it? I do think it's great it's etched into people's memories because it was such fun to do. We had no idea it would be a success. I remember the director saying, "This show is either going to fall on its a*** and we're never going to work again, or it's going to be something special." Fortunately it was the latter, but you never know in this business. If we did, we'd all be bleedin' rich - and retired.'
So he isn't rich either? 'No! I think there's this perception that if you're on TV you're a millionaire. It's not true. It's the BBC, for God's sake. Come on! I mean, I think the big bucks are in America and even then it's only after three seasons of something - if it's been successful, after you've signed your life away.' So has the States never appealed? He shrugs. 'I never had the ambition when the children were little. Now, I wouldn't really want my kids to go through the Californian education system. Huge great limos to drop them at school, gold credit cards, personal therapists by the time they're 18? No thanks. But never say never.' Nor does he really want them to be actors. 'I always say if they want to act then get down the Old Bailey and put a wig on.'
He's only half joking. 'It's incredibly precarious and there's an awful lot of luck involved. I was always told you needed talent, technique and luck, and out of the three of them luck would play the major role. I think also it's harder for women.' His own family history is awash with acting types. His father John was a TV director who worked on programmes such as Rumpole Of The Bailey; his aunt was married to a TV producer who worked on Morecambe And Wise - but again he wears this lightly. 'It was never showbizzy. It wasn't like he'd bring lots of famous people round for drinks. I went to a comprehensive. When I was a kid I wanted to be a milkman because you were finished by 10 in the morning.'
His elder brother Robert (star of Hustle and Spooks) always wanted to be an actor; Philip says he tried to avoid going down that route ('at school it was all Gilbert and Sullivan. I couldn't be doing with that') but eventually succumbed. He was encouraged by Robert's then wife, actress Amanda Redman, to audition for drama school. Today, he tries to play down the family links. 'We don't go around saying, "We're an acting dynasty."' But you and Robert must swap stories about the job? 'Do we have a good bitch? Of course, but only briefly. Mostly we talk about the kids. He's a terrific actor. I think he thinks I'm all right. We're brothers first and foremost.' They've never actually worked together simply, he insists, because the opportunity has never arisen. 'I think we'd quite like to find something together. He's up for it; so am I. Working together would be quite fun.'
He's quite cagey about many aspects of his life. I ask if he was wild in his youth. He wags a finger. 'Been there, done that, very quietly without any of you noticing, thank you very much.' How wild, then? 'I think everyone should be fairly hedonistic in their 20s, get it out of their system,' he laughs. 'I'm not saying you should go on being like that. It's tragic if you're still trying to relive your youth when you're in your 50s.'
What do the rest of his 50s hold, then? He says he's unlikely to be cast as any sort of action hero, then stops himself. 'But didn't they just cast Peter Capaldi as Doctor Who? He's a bit older than me, which is marvellous. Maybe there's still hope.'
With hindsight, he says, the sudden need for reading glasses to negotiate a script should have been a giveaway: Philip Glenister is not getting any younger. The 51-year-old actor's most famous role, as roguish cop Gene Hunt in Life On Mars, may have placed him permanently in the 70s in the public's mind, but in real life, time marches - nay, gallops - on.
Still, finding out the script that required these new glasses involved him playing a grandfather was even more of a shocker. 'I remember thinking, "Oh s***, I'm a grandfather here." A grandfather, for Christ's sake! It seemed like only yesterday I was shocked at being asked to play dads. The first time that happened was in about 1995 and I was thinking, "Oh my God, am I 40? S***, I suppose I am." But to be on a set being introduced to the kids who're going to play your grandchildren…' He covers his head with his hands. 'Well, I didn't see it coming.'
Alas, a successful actor ages more publicly than he would like. When I ask if it was last year or the year before that he hit the big 5-0 he says, 'Don't rub it in.' It was last year, and he's now 51.
'When you're starting out you think you've made it when you get in the Times birthday list. You read, "Philip Glenister, act-tor, 36", and feel all smug. When it gets to the point you're reading, "Philip Glenister, 49" you think, "Woah! Leave it now. I still want to play 45."'
Still, it could be worse. He could be an actress, which generally means that once you pass 40 you sit at home watching all the leading lady roles go to either a 23-year-old or Helen Mirren. Actually, he's been all jokes up till now ('Botox? Are you kidding me? If they started smoothing me out, I'd never work again'), but becomes suddenly serious. His wife, Beth Goddard, is a 45-year-old actress. When they met at a party in 1997, they were working as much as each other; ditto when they got married in 2006. But since their daughters Millie and Charlotte arrived, in 2002 and 2005 respectively, his career has been the dominant one - though not through choice.
'We didn't design it like that. It's the way it turned out. Without doubt it's easier to be a bloke in this profession, especially getting older. You can make the switch from leading actor to character actor more easily. There are still too few parts for women of a certain age.' He says that while there's work out there for women - his wife has just come back from a week's filming - there still isn't parity.
'The problem is when a good part like that does come up, they either go for the same old people or there's a huge amount of competition for one role. So it's tough and it's a shame because I think women of a certain age have experience and we need to see more of that on mainstream TV.' Indeed, one of the attractions of his latest role - in BBC1 drama From There To Here - was the fact his love interest is played by his former Life On Mars co-star Liz White.
In the three-part series, set against the backdrop of the IRA bombing of Manchester city centre in 1996, his supposedly happily married character Daniel Cotton embarks on an affair with a cleaner, Joanne, after they're both caught up in the explosion. It was important, he says, that the actress playing his mistress was of a similar age. 'We were adamant we didn't want Daniel to be seen with a much younger woman because everyone would have said, "Oh well, he's just in that for the sex." It was imperative we got an actress of a certain age, who'd been there, seen it and done it, so you could see why he fell for Joanne and why he was still in love with his wife. There wasn't too big an age difference between them. I'm pleased at how that was handled. It was responsible.'
Before you start marvelling at the Gene-Hunt-turns-feminist-champion shocker, hold on. A quick check shows that White is actually 35 - 16 years his junior - so the age difference is still pretty whopping. Maybe things are more dire in the TV business than we think if this is his idea of progressive. Anyway, he says the idea of playing a man in the midst of emotional turmoil - 'a form of mid-life crisis' - was appealing. 'A lot of it is the classic stuff. He's happily married, his children have grown up, he's doing OK, got a good business, a nice house in Cheshire - what's not to like? Then he's caught up in this bomb and it's a catalyst for him to suddenly start questioning, "Is this it? Is this all there is to life?"'
Of course, things then get complex. Daniel not only embarks on an affair with Joanne but falls in love with her. 'It raises all those questions about whether you can be in love with two people. Does that make him a misogynist? Does it make him a b*****d? One of the things that appealed about the drama was that it's about families: the complexities, absurdities, tragedies and love of families. It's something we can all identify with because we all have families. It's a very human story.'
But you can also see why the role in particular appealed. Since the success of Life On Mars and then its 80s-set sequel Ashes To Ashes, he's been doing that difficult-tightrope thing of trying to exploit the 'macho' image we know and love, yet trying not to be typecast by it. He said yes to the rather interesting documentary series For The Love Of Cars (currently showing on Channel 4) not, perish the thought, because he wanted to be the next Jeremy Clarkson, but because 'it was something that interested me'. It was born directly out of Gene Hunt's 'Fire up the Quattro' catchphrase from Ashes To Ashes. 'So much of the big iconic dramas of that era were about cars. The car was another co-star, and the idea of looking at the history behind some of the cars appealed.'
On the other hand, he gets tetchy if you suggest he's blokey in real life, and his CV is actually more varied than a lot of people realise. He cites his roles in two BBC serialisations. 'In Vanity Fair I played a character (William Dobbin, a loyal, dignified gentleman) who was the opposite of someone like Gene Hunt. Then the Cranford character (land agent Edmund Carter, a passionate believer in education for the lower classes) - again the opposite. These are much more sensitive characters. I'm nothing like these supposedly macho characters I portray.' At home he says he tries to be macho, but no one listens. 'I have a wife and two daughters. Enough said. Even the cats are female in my house. I'm right down, fifth billing in my own house.' Still the face - gloriously un-Botoxed - is that of a bruiser, no? 'You get people thinking, "Yeah, you've got a few pock marks, a few lines, therefore you've got to play hard nuts", but why? Richard Burton had those things… it didn't do him any harm, did it?'
Actually, he loves the Gene Hunt thing, and laughs uproariously about his character having been voted the third most iconic TV cop of all time (behind Columbo and Sherlock Holmes). 'He beat Morse and Poirot,' he points out. 'It's all a bit of fun, isn't it? I do think it's great it's etched into people's memories because it was such fun to do. We had no idea it would be a success. I remember the director saying, "This show is either going to fall on its a*** and we're never going to work again, or it's going to be something special." Fortunately it was the latter, but you never know in this business. If we did, we'd all be bleedin' rich - and retired.'
So he isn't rich either? 'No! I think there's this perception that if you're on TV you're a millionaire. It's not true. It's the BBC, for God's sake. Come on! I mean, I think the big bucks are in America and even then it's only after three seasons of something - if it's been successful, after you've signed your life away.' So has the States never appealed? He shrugs. 'I never had the ambition when the children were little. Now, I wouldn't really want my kids to go through the Californian education system. Huge great limos to drop them at school, gold credit cards, personal therapists by the time they're 18? No thanks. But never say never.' Nor does he really want them to be actors. 'I always say if they want to act then get down the Old Bailey and put a wig on.'
He's only half joking. 'It's incredibly precarious and there's an awful lot of luck involved. I was always told you needed talent, technique and luck, and out of the three of them luck would play the major role. I think also it's harder for women.' His own family history is awash with acting types. His father John was a TV director who worked on programmes such as Rumpole Of The Bailey; his aunt was married to a TV producer who worked on Morecambe And Wise - but again he wears this lightly. 'It was never showbizzy. It wasn't like he'd bring lots of famous people round for drinks. I went to a comprehensive. When I was a kid I wanted to be a milkman because you were finished by 10 in the morning.'
His elder brother Robert (star of Hustle and Spooks) always wanted to be an actor; Philip says he tried to avoid going down that route ('at school it was all Gilbert and Sullivan. I couldn't be doing with that') but eventually succumbed. He was encouraged by Robert's then wife, actress Amanda Redman, to audition for drama school. Today, he tries to play down the family links. 'We don't go around saying, "We're an acting dynasty."' But you and Robert must swap stories about the job? 'Do we have a good bitch? Of course, but only briefly. Mostly we talk about the kids. He's a terrific actor. I think he thinks I'm all right. We're brothers first and foremost.' They've never actually worked together simply, he insists, because the opportunity has never arisen. 'I think we'd quite like to find something together. He's up for it; so am I. Working together would be quite fun.'
He's quite cagey about many aspects of his life. I ask if he was wild in his youth. He wags a finger. 'Been there, done that, very quietly without any of you noticing, thank you very much.' How wild, then? 'I think everyone should be fairly hedonistic in their 20s, get it out of their system,' he laughs. 'I'm not saying you should go on being like that. It's tragic if you're still trying to relive your youth when you're in your 50s.'
What do the rest of his 50s hold, then? He says he's unlikely to be cast as any sort of action hero, then stops himself. 'But didn't they just cast Peter Capaldi as Doctor Who? He's a bit older than me, which is marvellous. Maybe there's still hope.'
Original article can be found here.
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