Articles/Interviews

Oliver Reed enjoys the image he has created of himself - almost as much as he enjoyed the devil-may-care fun that has gone into its making. He is indeed the stuff of which a star is made - a man's man who is adored by women; a life-loving man who lives every second of each minute to the limit.

His start on the road to stardom was as chancy as anyone might imagine. Not for him the routine and discipline of drama school; he had had enough of both during his National Service in the Army. "I came out of the army wanting to act, and I wrote to one or two repertory companies, but they turned me down because I had no experience. That being the case, I decided to invent a career. Suddenly I'd starred in everything from 'Othello' to the most avante guarde plays, in theatres in Australia and South Africa. What I did not realise, of course, was that the people to whom I addressed my shining history knew full well that the theatres where I'd given my breath-taking performances did not exist!"

"So I turned to my uncle (the late Sir Carol Reed) and asked his advice. He suggested drama school, but that didn't appeal. Then I met some drunken Irishmen in a pub in Earl's Court. I spent all the money I'd saved during my army service, but they got me membership of the Film Artists Association, which is a posh name for 'extras'. My first job was as a newspaper photographer, in a picture called "Sonja Henie In London"."

While he waited for his tiny roles to get bigger, Oliver was forced to augment his income. He returned to the fairground fight booths of his youth, but only for a short time. "I had two fights - won the first one, and then met a huge black fellow who hit me once. That was the end of my career as a fighter."

Short-lived though it was, his experience must have stood him in some stead for his next job - as the bouncer in a strip club. Next he became a hospital porter. "I fell in love with the starched bibs on the nurses, and the smell of carbolic, and so decided to become a medical student, but nothing came of it."

Oliver then decided to sample the possible delights of door-to-door selling. "But before I could, er.. demonstrate my potential, I got a call to work in The Sword of Sherwood Forest."

Except for an occasional hiccup, Oliver Reed's career has prospered from that day to this. He was invited to the house of Hammer to appear in such films as The Scarlet Blade, The Pirates Of Blood River and Curse Of The Werewolf - all films that did little more than keep the wolf from the door. His break came when he met Michael Winner, a director who shared his determination to succeed. His climb to stardom started in Winner's modest but much-praised production, The System.

No sooner was his career launched than it was almost ended. "I got my face rather well attended to by a gentleman with whom I became 'involved'." His enforced lay-off ended with Ken Russell inviting him to play Debussy in a television film. What happened after that is now a matter of history: Women In Love, Tommy and The Devils - not to mention two films in which he appeared in tiny, unbilled cameos.

Thinking back to those lively days, Oliver remembers: "Michael Winner, with his megaphone, his huge cigars and tremendous enthusiasm for work, gave me my bank balance. Ken Russell gave me my art."

Russell also gave the actor one or two hairy moments, which he now savours with relish. Moments like that on which he was introduced to Pete Townsend of The Who. "Russell filled me full of pasta, wine and brandy, and then told me to sing! I offered a couple of choruses of 'The Wild Colonial Boy', but Russell pushed a sheet of paper into my hand and said, 'Sing that'. It was a song I'd never heard or seen before. The result was ... stunning! But Townsend and Russell recovered sufficiently to let me sing it again - in Tommy."

Another happy memory dates back to the same film. It is of Keith Moon, drummer and hellraiser extraordinaire. The two rebels established such a rapport that, when two or three "delightful young lovelies" got out of hand during location work for the film, it was to Moon that Oliver called for help. Despite his own pressing engagement, Moon responded. "The result was spectacular," recalls Oliver. "Moonie came storming into my room, stark naked! He threw a tray of glasses at the girls, and - in none-too-polite language - asked them to leave. They did, hurriedly!"

There was also the occasion when, after the opening of The Devils, Oliver went to work in Italy - despite threatened arrest after the film had been banned as obscene in that country. At a press conference, a lady journalist asked Oliver why he had surrendered a revealing centre-page spread in a popular magazine to Burt Reynolds. That discussion ended with Oliver dropping his trousers, much to the delight of the ever-hungry Italian photographers.

Again, he added to his reputation when he joined Lee Marvin to make The Wildcats. "Having each been warned about the other's reputation, we played it very cool for a time. Marvin was, and still is for me, the greatest. But just then we were feeling each other out - until one night when Marvin called over a waitress and said just two words: 'Vodka. Large.' Recognising that the time had indeed come, I caught the lady's eye and put in my two words: 'Whisky. Large.' It was indeed a monumental battle, and I shall never forget the sight of Marvin stretched out at my feet -just before I fell alongside him!"

Behind the outrageous image that Oliver Reed maintains with almost loving care, there is another, more serious man. One who, although disgusted by the tax laws that take the bulk of his earnings, elects to fight his campaign from London rather than Lucerne or Los Angeles. One who is not inhibited by fear of consequences when he considers the state of the British film industry. "The traditional backers of films are now more interested in renting their studios as stores for office equipment, and the like. It's now left to soap manufacturers, morticians and what have you, to provide the money. Lew Grade is an invigorating breath of life in our business, but he cannot do it all by himself! I remember Glenda (Jackson) saying: 'It's not the money we lack in this country. What we lack is courage.' She is a very wise lady."

Oliver's respect for Miss Jackson belies the rumours of friction peddled by gossip columnists. "There's a lot of fibs told about our relationship. It's true we don't socialise - but again, as the lady herself says, 'We don't need to hob-nob; we're professionals who get on with the job we're paid to do!'"

Not least of the many intriguing facets to this complicated Mr. Reed is his unashamed admiration for some of his fellow actors. When Michael Winner asked him to play a small cameo in The Big Sleep, he was reluctant to set aside his firm rule never to make any more guest appearances. With a grin he recalls: "Michael knew that as soon as he mentioned Robert Mitchum's name he would have me hooked. I couldn't resist it. To appear with such a 'biggie' is what it's all about. What an experience - just to see that marvellously relaxed man, strolling through the picture. Such presence! That surely is what it's all about."