Articles/Interviews

BY TANIA BRASSEY

This year Oliver Reed made his fiftieth film, The Class of Miss MacMichael, in which he co-stars with Glenda Jackson. W.H. Allen have a biography in the pipeline. Has the explosive, big, bad brute of British films finally settled into the role of country gent?

Some years ago, he was looking for a field to put his horses in. (His ambition is to breed the Show jumper of the year, the Derby winner, and the best Heavyweight hunter, all in the same year.) He found a field but there were some snags attached to the purchase of it - a 50 acre patch with a seven acre lake, 47 bedroomed mansion, stables and gardens. So nowadays, this is the little place he calls home and where he lives with his horses, his mistress Jackie, their daughter Sara, eight, a Great Dane, a gardener or two and a rhinocerous.

 

Oliver Reed's baby brother Simon, aimed his voice at me as though shouting orders in a hurricane. 'Sometimes he can be a little difficult. . .you have to be patient'. The wind whistled through the mysterious slashes in the roof of his sports car, tearing the words from his mouth. 'You have to give him time to warm up. . .Some journalists come and expect an instant show. . .'

'Some journalists,' I thought, 'don't come out of there with what they went in with.' Only last month a girl from another magazine passed out on the floor with amnesia, so they say. I was about to ask if it's true Oliver likes to spike drinks when Simon interrupted me. On a hillside above the road, a magnificent mansion arose, a big strong brute of a thing with no saggy muscles. The next minute it was gone as we left the salubrious Surrey countryside behind and turned into the drive, a tunnel of dank vegetation.

The rhinocerous was waiting at the end of the darkness. If provoked, he leaps out at you. He looked a lot like his owner. Simon lead me through the creaking front door and, from somewhere inside, an echo stumbled down the passageways to answer. The Great Dane was being friendly, crashing its tail against my thigh. Despite the pain I dragged my leg across the great hall. It was the sort of house that wastes a lot of time and space on hallways before getting to the heart of the matter.

I turned and suddenly Oliver Reed stood silently at my shoulder, a be-polite-to-journalists-smile hung at the edge of his jaw. I forgot to say, 'Hello', followed him past a vast kitchen. He paused at a nice clean window to show me the view. 'On a clear day. . .' he growled. 'On a clear day. . .you can see forever?' He seemed to like that. The bright blue electric lights flashed behind his eyes. 'Come into my parlour,' he smirked and took me inside the library.

A much chewed tigerskin lies exhausted on the floor. I sit shivering on a leather sofa, playing with cigarettes. The Lord of the Manor keeps leaping at me to light them, making me jump each time. Simon brings in a recent press cutting, which causes Ollie to stomp about snarling. Little brother tried in vain to humour him and laugh the wretched thing away.

Reed: It's shit like this I don't need - 'Startled patrons of a West End club were treated to a moment of high comedy yesterday evening when superman Oliver Reed, drawing a skien 'n du from the Scottish regalia he was wearing, was chinned by a burly security guard.' I mean none of this happened, but the terrible thing is they write it - that I've drawn a knife on them. That's bad.

Simon: (Hastily) No, it was done with a sense of humour, that's all.

Reed: Was it? It's not in my opinion done with a sense of humour.

Simon: Everyone I spoke to says it's alright - it's good publicity. You didn't help when I rang you up and you said, 'Victoria Sporting club? Sounds a bit common to me. I've never been there.'

Penthouse: It's all a conspiracy against you.

Reed: Oh yes, they're trying to make me out to be a hooligan. They're having a hard time.

Penthouse: But surely, Oliver, a seasoned traveller like you must have grown out of being worried by stuff like that. Or are you trying to be a good boy?

Reed: (Three minutes silence, then) Listen darling heart, I don't try to put on an image for anybody or anything. I am a law unto myself. If people behave badly towards me they have to take the consequences. I don't set out to be a bad boy - is that a tape recorder? (pointing to a cigarette lighter). The image of the olden days was such because whoever was handling my publicity at the studios tried to build me into that.

Penthouse: Well, you've certainly got an aura. I've been terrified to meet you. I thought you might beat me up.

Reed: 'Might'. (A bellow of raucous laughter and he stops storming around the place and comes to sit in front of me like a good boy )

Penthouse: You didn't shoot that tiger on the floor?

Reed: No, it was a gift from Keith Moon. Moony gave me that and he also gave me the dog which chewed its ears - that was the Great Dane you saw - because he used to chew other things than tigerskins ears, and I think it was probably Au Pair girls. He likes chewing women. He's plain but he's very strong.

Penthouse: He doesn't look strong.

Reed: Take him for a walk.

Penthouse: Oh - you mean the dog? Sorry, I was thinking you meant Keith Moon chews his women.

Reed: I KNOW that for a fact. I kiss them. He chews them. But the dog chews the tigerskins ears and Moon gave me the dog and then the tigerskin hoping it would go on chewing the tiger but in actual fact it chewed up most of the furniture and some of the ladies. Then one day, when Moon was going to America, the gardener phoned up and said, 'Moon's friends have turned up in a lorry and delivered a present,' so I opened the door and there on the front step was a rhinocerous. So we put it at the top of the drive and it's great fun. It used to spoof the racehorses coming up the drive. Now they're used to it.

Penthouse: What's it made out of?

Reed: Fiberglass. It's got an engine in it that explodes and jumps up into the air. It's attached to one of those bumps on the drive-

Penthouse: That's why Simon slowed down so much - if you come at a pace it leaps up at you?

Reed: That's right.

Penthouse: Tell me what you get up to with Keith Moon. When did you meet?

Reed: On Tommy. They decided they were going to put Moon in one hotel and me in another 15 miles away and all the crew in another hotel, a further 15 miles from both of us so we couldn't incite the crew. But the hotel that we were going to put the crew in said they'd had a film crew once before and they weren't going to have one again. So they put Moon and I in one hotel and the entire crew in the other one.

Penthouse: And that was a mistake! That's the hotel you bashed up?

Reed: That's the one Moon bashed up.

Penthouse: Moon was it? I keep wondering about this because you always blame it all on poor old Moony.

Reed: It is Moon. He cost me £9,000 worth of damage at my older brother's birthday party at the Beverly Wilshire hotel. I'm not allowed there anymore.

Penthouse: What cost £9,000?

Reed: Chandeliers.

Penthouse: What do you mean, he was actually swinging from them?

Reed: No, just hitting them.

Penthouse: Really! You must have helped him.

Reed: No I didn't. I was trying to stop him. It took me only about nine seconds to get to him and, by the time I had done that, he had grabbed this enormous great tablecloth and run all the way down this huge great table - all the crockery and soup tureens and everything were smashing to the floor. And all the girls who didn't know Moon or I - wives of film directors and people - were screaming and running out of the room, so they hampered my way, otherwise I would have got him in two seconds. I knocked three poor ladies unconscious as I tried to get him, and he'd cut his hand and blood was pouring all over. So the police arrived with their pistols drawn and they were immediately searched by Ringo Starr, while I carried Moon into the kitchen. Then the ambulance arrived and I was pouring cold scotch over Moon's cock so it stung; and that made him kick, which made the ambulance men think he was being violent. They were saying, 'Hey buddy, if you don't stop struggling we're gonna knock you spot out.' David my brother had a sheriff's badge and a stetson on and he was trying to lay down the law but he was so pissed he kept falling into the washing machines.

Simon: (Coming back to check us out). This is after the girl had come out of the birthday cake.

Reed: Oh yes, indeed. I had been thinking what I could give my brother for his birthday, and then I thought I'll give him a naked lady jumping out of a birthday cake. And David, you understand, looks after the money side of my affairs and he's quite mean. First of all I sat the lady next to him at the dinner party. And David was going 'Qua qua qua' to her and she was going 'Oh David! You're so Bridish!' Then she got up and said 'Excuse me,' because American women are inclined to go to the toilet all night long -

Penthouse: To douche themselves with Vanilla flavour?

Reed: That's right! How did you know? (His bright blue eyes reach out to me suspiciously).

Penthouse: I've only read about it. I haven't had a sniff, so far.

Reed: So, yes, she said 'excuse me' while she went to douche with Vanilla flavour, and she took all her clothes off and climbed into the cake. The chefs loved it of course. It was an enormous cake, seven chefs had to wheel it in. And the Maitre d' had a little wire that was put into the cake with a battery thing and, when the red light came on, that's when the thing went up about a foot, which sent her through the top of the cake. So David was sitting there with his ten gallon hat and suddenly - 'Happy Birthday' - Americans are great at singing Happy Birthday - and in came this monsterous cake. The only thing that David said was, 'We're not going to be able to eat all that.' So he started to blow out the 40 candles and, as he got halfway round, the Maitre d' pulled the wire and out came this lady he had been sitting next to all night, whom he didn't recognise because she had ice cream all over the top of her hair, and he hadn't realised that her bosoms were so big. So he blinked for a bit and she said 'Surprise, surprise!' and leapt over to give him a kiss. And David, being the gentleman he is, parted her voluminous breasts and went mmnnn!

Penthouse: You really have a marvellous set up, with your whole family to look after you.

Reed: They're trying to. You see, they're always getting drunk and I get the reputation for being the piss artist.

Penthouse: But what you really do is sip coffee with little girls from Ceylon.

Reed: That's right. Would you like some brandy in your coffee?

Penthouse: Not just yet.

Reed: (pours brandy into cup).

Simon: See, you've started him off.

Reed: No, yesterday I only had one glass of wine.

Penthouse: How do you manage to keep this place up?

Reed: My elder brother David keeps my creditors away from me. Simon makes out I'm rich and the tax man makes out I'm rich, by trying to force me out of the country. David, who is my business manager, just plays it by ear and I haven't had anybody knocking on my door yet so I suppose I'm still just in credit, which is not bad in this day and age, is it?

Penthouse: You've got a son?

Reed: Yes, Mark. And now he says he wants to be an actor.

Penthouse: Does that scare you?

Reed: No, but I should think it should scare him. There's nothing much a father can do about a headstrong son who decides to leave school except insist that he stays. And, if the sons are sufficiently headstrong, they are going to terminate the arrangement anyway and be off on the nearest 93 bus to Bethnal Green or wherever it goes and find themselves living with a naughty lady, which is not bad, which is what I did.

Reed: You started about the same age as him?

Penthouse: That's right, living with naughty ladies. It's not bad, but the Army claimed me and straightened me out.

Penthouse: Does he look like you? Is he as big as you?

Simon: He makes Ollie look like Pinnochio!

Penthouse: God! I must see this son.

Reed: Maybe we could rely on you to find him a naughty lady.

Penthouse: Yes. Well, I've got a penchant for 17 year olds at the moment.

Reed: (laughing) I was staying at a hotel in Guernsey and an old lady I used to sip sherry with, said to me, 'I understand your son wants to become a thespian.' So I ran up to my room and looked in the Cricketers Almanac and couldn't find the word thespian so I turned to the dictionary and found it meant actor.

Penthouse: I thought it meant some religious thing.

Reed: No. So that's what he's going to be. So I said, 'Fine, we'll send you to acting school, like I didn't go to,' but he said, 'No, I want to do the same as you,' which is learn from the drama of life. So I should think now it's back to the naughty ladies because even at school he was having his photograph taken with girls from your magazine, I think.

Penthouse: Will you tell me when it's a quarter too, because I have to turn the tape over and I don't have a watch. I need one of those things that goes buzz.

Reed: I'll tell Mark. He'll give you a fly in a matchbox. He's terribly generous like that! Do you know, he didn't send a Christmas card to his sister, or to my mistress or anybody who has looked after him and mollycoddled him throughout his life, but I must admit on Christmas Eve I received a photograph - of himself.

Penthouse: Oh beautiful! What, nude?

Reed: Oh, no.

Penthouse: I must see this. Pity we couldn't have him down here.

Simon: Well, I owe him a favour (maniacal laughter)

Reed: (Changing subject) Have you seen my racing colours? Oh yes you have. (Then relenting) I'll get you a picture of Mark. (Exit and returns with photo inscribed, 'One day you'll be proud of me Old Dad.') Old Dad! Cheeky sod.

Penthouse: Did the Army really straighten you out?

Reed: Yes, because I was into girls at quite a young age and my Sergeant-Major pointed out that there were other things in life - like Corporals. So I found out that there were girl soldiers as well and I fell in love with all the Queen Alexander's Nursing Corps. The Army did a great thing because up to that time , I thought I was Jack the Lad because there were a lot of people who had - what was that long word you used about 17 year olds?

Penthouse: I don't know any long words.

Reed: Penchant.

Penthouse: That's not a long word.

Reed: It is for me. I always thought it was something that an old person got - what is that . . . they give you money, what is that called

Simon: Pension!

Penthouse: When you worked in the strip club . . . was it just a short thing?

Reed: No, I was quite well endowed in the days of my youth!

Penthouse: Did you actually bounce people out?

Reed: Well, they were only the fellows who wanted to throw chocolates on the stage and make the girls dance on them with no brassiere.

Penthouse: Lee Marvin's a mate?

Reed: Yes, Lee's a mate. I only worked with him once, on Cat House Thursday. He called me up once at my hotel and when he said - 'it's Lee Marvin,' immediately the switchboard secretary started to listen in. Lee was quite pissed and he said, 'I'm gonna come urp 'n see you Saturday 'n we'll have a coupl'a nights on the juice. So I said, 'Great Lee.' And they put two armed guards on the bar of the hotel. This was in Scotstown, which is very security orientated because its full of millionaires. And they thought Lee and I together in the bar might cause some havoc. But we fooled them. We didn't turn up. We went out to this very posh restaurant where there were some blue rinsed ladies, who were obviously very wealthy judging by their jewellery and the fact that their husbands were presidents of banks. And they were obviously fans of Lee's because they started twittering and sending him menus to sign and Lee would say, 'Lader, lader, sweetheartl' which they loved. So later, he went up to this table, fell straight across it, lurched backwards, heaved himself off the table all covered in junket, staggered backwards, hit a serving table, and cut his head open. The blood and the custard and the junket were all over his face. And the blue rinsed ladies screamed, two of them ran to the lavatory, another had a cardiac arrest, and the last one thought it was great and burst out laughing. Lee, by this time, was slightly concussed and started worrying about Pamela, his wife, with whom he'd had a row earlier at the restaurant and who had stormed off. So he said, 'Err. . . lert's go find Pam-Pamela . . .' So we then went and searched all the hotels at 3.30 in the morning. And the last thing I heard as he went off to bed was Pamela shouting, 'You Bastard!' They live on this ranch in Tucson and he tries to fill in his time . . . So he decided to paint the house and he was pissed. He was at the top of this ladder with a huge pot of paint. And Pamela came out to tell him that he should never climb a ladder when he's pissed. And she shouted at the top of her voice, 'Lee! Never-' and he went 'Ah?' and the whole ladder went crash! White paint all over him!

When we recover from the paroxysms of laughing Olly gets up to fetch some wine. He comes back with three large tumblers. Two look like white wine, one looks like white wine with something peculiar, not to say suspicious in it.

Penthouse: What are those red bits floating on the top?

Reed: Ah? What - nothing. (Quick glance at Simon). Oh that. No, that's only a drop of Tabasco.

Penthouse: No it's not. Tabasco doesn't come in little bits. I'll have this one (I grab Simon's glass. He turns a shadier pale of white.)

Reed: Oh sure, they're all the same. I promise you. (Olivers face creases into mischievous lines. Simon, looking pinched, retires into the folds of his chair and hides the offending glass behind my tape recorder.)

Penthouse: Ha, ha! I got you there! (Smiling triumphantly) So it's true what I heard.

Reed: No, really. All that was - er, was some Tabasco.

Penthouse: But you don't put Tabasco in white wine.

Penthouse: Michael Winner is also a pal.

Reed: Michael doesn't drink. He eats, drinks and breathes movies. I've made about five films with him. We went out to lunch the other day and I don't think I've ever seen a man eat 12 large oysters as quickly as Michael. He really does eat! But he doesn't drink. Which is why you can always believe what he says, extravagent though it might seem.

Penthouse: You were breathalised once, weren't you?

Reed: Yes I was. I was 81 per cent, which is one point above the law. You are allowed 80. So I had my blood analysed by my own analyst and I was only 79 per cent. I fought in front of a jury. The case lasted all day but because the law knew I had two very strong men representing me they got some big silks and it became a big scientific row, which was very boring and the jury didn't understand anyway, but they found against me. I was not given the benefit of the doubt for that one per cent, even though I had the top forensic experts representing me and three policemen on my side. The jury were simply against me because I was found driving a Rolls Royce motor car and because I was a movie actor.

Penthouse: That was a case of give a dog a bad name?

Reed: Yes it was. The judge fined me £5 and disqualified me from driving for a year and, when I went to pay the fine, the clerk said, 'I've never seen such a low fine in my life.' I said, 'I've never seen such a travesty of justice in all my life.' If I'm ever asked to be breathalised again, I'll refuse to blow in that bloody bag because I don't trust it.

Penthouse: Have you ever been in prison?

Reed: (Looking baffled) No of course not. I've been in the cooler. I've been arrested in most places in the world, but not in prison.

Penthouse: I can't actually see this famous scar they all talk so much about.

Reed: I've got some here, some there - that's where a glass went in here and came out there.

Penthouse: How did you get them?

Reed: (Wearily) I don't like talking about it anymore. I met some rough fellows. That's all in the past. I've got a teddy bear called William now. He's got a blue bow.

Penthouse: Aah!

Simon: And a punch in the stomach!

Reed: And a kick in the crutch! Fergus Cashin, who is writing the book about me, keeps saying, 'Oliver, let's get to the punch ups and the birds,' and I don't want to talk about punch ups or the ladies in my life. Because perhaps they wouldn't want to own up to such bad taste. But there was one actress who kept talking about her affair with me, so I wouldn't mind talking about her.

Penthouse: Mnmmm . . . O.K. talk about her!

Reed: No, what's old is old.

Penthouse: Do you get bored with interviews?

Reed: Depends how they're conducted. Sometimes young girls like you can start saying - 'Tell me how you began' and then I'm inclined to get very funny around the eyes and say, 'Hang on, I'm just going to get a cup of coffee,' and I get straight into my car and I'll be off. And Simon has to say, 'Er . . well . .'

Penthouse: Now I don't know what to ask you! Did being married once put you off being married again?

Reed: No, I just haven't found anyone else who would have me. I've asked about six times and been turned down. I'm only a refugee here. I scratch around looking for a bed at night. (Changing subject) I was .sent a Scottish passport, which was very funny, with a letter saying, 'I heer ye we' abused the other day while weering ye kilt en kissen a lady and am hereby sending ye a Scottish Passport giving ye the raight te do both.'

Penthouse: What sort of women do you like? If you had to choose right now what would you choose?

Reed: Probably an able bodied seaman, as long as he was a good drinker!

Penthouse: If I offered my services . . . would you consider it?

Reed: (Shy giggles) Well, why not mum! One's taste in women is always changing. That's the magic of the thing. I mean, I don't think at 18 I really cared for a blue stocking and I can't really say that I find any hard core women's libber attractive, simply because that which issues from her mouth or wherever - usually it comes from the tail part of her anatomy - I find that alien to a woman's role in life. A woman to me is not one who cannot formulate an opinion but it's not one that derides the opposite sex I'm certainly not a woman hater but I don't like to sit around listening to these stupid things, who are anyway eventually going to be fucked to death by some big marine, and enjoy every moment of it. I would have thought that half of them are like that because they are frustrated. I know that's a glib expression that male chauvinists use, but you don't often see any good looking women's libbers. If they are good looking they are probably doing it for effect or they are lesbians. Or else they are usually in their early thirties, and have been hurt by a man who has probably fallen in love with somebody a bit younger. I like to feel that the man's place in life is that of the dominator and I think overall a woman finds herself in a happier situation if her man is her protector; rather than the contrary. In the East the women would always control the man with her perfumes and her wiles. Really she had a lot on her side - all those oils and figs . . . . she'd get him pissed out of his mind . . . . But a man who goes down to the pub in England, is given a reading for spending so much time in the bar. I can honestly say that my present bird would not dare to give me a bollocking for spending any time in the pub. And I think if I spent a night out I wouldn't be questioned as to where I'd been. There might be some hurt, in which case she might overcook my Brussels sprouts the next day or she might give me rice pudding, which I don't like. But if things are going wrong you don't have to spend a night out to prove it. Usually if I spend a night out it's because I'm with the boys.

Penthouse: How long was your first marriage?

Reed: Ten years.

Penthouse: And this er . . . marriage?

Reed: Ten years.

Penthouse: Really, you've been married a good deal of your adult life.

Reed: In fact I prefer to be with women than apart from them. But I don't have any close women friends. I much prefer to go on the piss with the lads or to the races with the lads.

Penthouse: Are your break-up's always tempestuous?

Reed: Nearly always. Because I believe that if something is going to finish, then it's easier to manufacture a bad scene, then there's no sadness You say, 'You Prick! You call me what,' and make her call you names and you flounce out and slam the door and then that's easy.

Penthouse: That's quite a female trait really. A lot of women, when they sense things are about to end, manufacture a scene because they want to feel deserted, so they can say, 'You foul-'

Reed: Oh is it? I've never found that. They always want to hang onto me.

Penthouse: Is Jackie a good friend of yours apart from being the lady who shares your life?

Reed: Sure she is. But I don't, for instance, share my fears with her. That's part of my responsibility as a man. I don't go to bed and have a lot of pillow talk and say, 'Look I'm worried about this.'

Penthouse: What are your fears?

Reed: Oh Bullshit! I don't even tell her. Why should I tell your public? Jesus Christ! Shall we have some more wine?

Penthouse: Have you ever tried to kill yourself?

Reed: God no. I'm far too frightened of that or I wouldn't extend so much energy trying to stop other people from doing it. I nearly died once as a child and once I nearly drowned wearing Wellington boots and a high altitude flying jacket, which is meant to keep out the cold, so it's got lots of layers and is not the best thing to wear in the sea in a storm. I was once sucked off the cliff. Luckily the next wave flung me over and I got it off.

Penthouse: Would you have a facelift when you're 70 or a hair transplant?

Reed: No.

Jackie: That's what he says now.

Reed: A year ago I had a very vivid dream that I was going bald and I caught myself very carefully combing the few long hairs over the top. And I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, 'You hypocritical bastard! What are you doing?' and then I woke up.

Penthouse: You were the original nude man, weren't you?

Reed: The first legitimate one. You know, there were those ones in books. Cosmo asked me to pose nude for them and I didn't want to do that. They got Burt Reynolds to do it instead. And I was at this press conference in Italy and they asked me why I didn't do those pictures. I said Burt Reynolds had a hairier bum than me and at the same time I took down my trousers and showed them my bum but I covered my winkle. So this lady journalist was sitting in front and she said, 'Why did you cover your winkle?' I said, 'Because I didn't want to knock you out, madam.' So when this picture came out, there was me with my strides down to my knees, laughing, holding my hands in front saying, 'Me and my little jewel.'

Penthouse: I'm surprised the plaster casters haven't approached you.

Simon: They made his out of Plasticine!

Penthouse: You could have your family crest incorporated into it. You really ought to do that at once before you slowly start shrinking.