The Wylde Interview: Miriam Margolyes
BRITAIN’S NAUGHTIEST NATIONAL TREASURE, MIRIAM MARGOLYES, IS EVERYONE’S FAVOURITE CUDDLY AUNT – THE ONE WHO PEPPERS HER SPOT-ON ADVICE WITH A DASH OF GOOD OLD-FASHIONED FILTH. SO HOLD ON TO YOUR KNICKERS; THE AWARD-WINNING ACTRESS TREATS WYLDE TO HER WIT AND WISDOM AND TELLS DAVID NEWTON ABOUT DICKENS, DICKS AND DOLLY PARTON
Portraits by Etienne Gilfillan
“Don’t be a cunt!”
This forthright nugget of life advice could only really have dropped from the lips of one actor in this age of ultra-PC thespian reserve. Miriam Margolyes is not so much a breath of fresh air as a hurricane of unfiltered common sense, as anyone who has witnessed her recent appearances on the cosy sofas of UK TV chat shows will testify. Leaving a trail of stunned silence and high-pitched gasp-giggles in her wake, this septuagenarian’s utterances have taken on a viral life of their own and endeared her to an ever-growing fan base.
Holding forth on such topics as masturbation, circumcision and which showbiz characters she cannot stand, Margolyes could only get away with her four-letter bons mots with a CV as impressive and varied as hers. A classic early sighting of her marriage of the highbrow and the vulgar was her appearance on the very first series of University Challenge in 1963, during which she mouthed what many believe to be the first “fuck” on British TV.
So, what of this CV? Miriam Margolyes OBE has conquered pretty much every form of her art, from films (Harry Potter, James and the Giant Peach), TV (Blackadder, Call The Midwife), stage (Wicked) and voiceovers (she was the breathy Cadbury’s Caramel bunny), to appearing in – and presenting – TV documentaries. Well rounded in all senses of the term, she is at once the cuddly great-aunt we all wish we had, and a slightly intimidating presence who flatly refused to answer some of my more “trivial” questions!
Which brings us up to the present. Miriam has generously invited Wylde to her South London home for a shoot and chat and, having made sure everyone has coffee and is settled nicely, has uttered the striking opening words of this piece, as retrospective advice that she would give her 15-year-old self.
Wylde: Any more advice for teenage Miriam?
Miriam Margolyes: Lose weight! But my 15-year-old self wouldn’t have listened to any advice, so it would have been pointless to say anything. And in some ways, I didn’t need it, because I did it anyway. My best advice would have been: this isn’t a dress rehearsal, this is it. And I think I’ve taken the advice I never gave…
Are you a stubborn person, then?
I was always opinionated, and I always thought I was right. I’ve always been like this. Is that terrible?
No. But I think an unlucky person could have killed off their career by saying to the wrong people: “Fuck off, don’t give me that advice!”
I don’t do that, ever. I don’t want to hurt people, and I don’t want to put people down. That’s not the idea. And I’m actually, I think, incredibly nice and kind, and welcoming and charming. One should be like that. But I will tell the truth, and sometimes the truth is painful. When you go round after a show, that’s not the moment to tell the truth. If someone asks: “Was it all right?”, you say: “It was fabulous! I’ll ring you tomorrow and let’s have a chat about it.” Simon Callow, I love that man. What a great Dickensian. He’s done many stage shows about Dickens, and once, I said to him: “Would you come and give me notes for a play? I’m not happy with it and I need your eye.” And he came and he helped. He gave good notes, what he said was right, and it was so helpful. I’ve never forgotten that, and I love him forever for that.
What’s the best piece of acting advice you’ve ever been given?
I think it was Peter Hall who said, “Murder your darlings”– which means when you think you’re being brilliant, that’s when you should stop. It’s an acting note, and it means if you think to yourself: “Oh, I’m doing this bit really well, this is a good bit,” you’re praising yourself, and you have to take it right down. You’re overacting, and being a smug actor – there’s an awful lot of them.
What personal quality do you most admire in other people?
Kindness. When [historian and writer] Jan Morris was interviewed on television – there was a lovely documentary about her – and she was asked: “What is the thing that you most cherish about others?” it was kindness. I think it’s true; just be kind!
Would you ever write your autobiography?
No. Because there’s no point unless you can tell the truth. And if you tell the truth you’re going to hurt someone, and that’s what I won’t do. I want to be remembered as somebody honest and not someone cruel.
You can be famously scathing about other people in showbiz, but do you ever get starstruck?
Oh yes, all the time. Eileen Atkins is my number one. And I think number two would probably be Anjelica Huston. Did you see a film called The Dead that she did? I’ve never met her, and my big thrill would be to meet her. I wouldn’t speak. I wouldn’t know how to. I would be speechless. When you think of The Dead and The Grifters… what an artist! And I’ll tell you who else I’d love to meet: Harvey Keitel. I think he’s a wonderful actor.
How did your obsession with Charles Dickens begin? [Margolyes co-wrote and performed a one-woman show, Dickens’ Women, in which she played 23 characters from his novels.]
I read him when I was 11 – Oliver Twist – and the character of Fagin fascinated me because I’m Jewish. And I’d never met a Jew like that; a slimy Jew. And I thought: “This is a different kind of writing.”
You’re quoted as saying “I love Dickens and I hate him.”Why the latter?
Well, I hate him for how he treated his wife and his children. He fell in love with a 17-year-old actress and he fell out of love with his wife because she got old and fat and had nine children. And so he tried to get her sent to a mental home. And, finally, he separated from her, and she never saw him again. It’s a very, very bad story.
Where do you stand on the issue that a very imperfect person can be a genius?
You have to accept the work, but not the man. Could I have borne to have lived without Dickens? I don’t think I could. I needed those books in my life.
Imperfection can cover a multitude of sins – and crimes.
Crimes should be punished, like paedophilia. A priest, I can’t forgive. And I don’t forgive Dickens, but I allow him to live for what the other side of him did.
Which Dickens character do you most relate to?
I most relate to two. One is Mrs Gamp, because she’s comic and evil, and the other is Miss Havisham.
You relate to Miss Havisham?!
I think it’s a brilliant portrayal of a pathology.
How on earth did you manage to play 23 different Dickens characters in one play?
I used the actual characters and the words he wrote, because they were all based on people in his life, real people. So I told the story of his life using these characters. It was a very clever show. It was fun. It’s the thing I’m most proud of that I’ve done.
Did you find that each character, having a different voice, tone, accent etc made it easier to remember the lines?
Dickens makes it easy. Nobody writes characters like Dickens. They’re real; you just speak the lines and there they are, the person is alive. He’s my man, he’s the man in my life.
Who was your first crush?
My first crush was a teacher called Miss Chase. I was about three-and-a-half. I remember I walked past her house and I had an orgasm.
Spontaneously, in the street?
Yes. I had a feeling that I now recognise was orgasm. My cunt flooded with juice, just at the thought of her.
Ugh!
But why is it disgusting? Why is it horrible? I don’t understand why a moist cunt is offensive.
I’m a prude! Have you had any reactions to any of the very direct things you’ve said about people?
I don’t think I’m nasty about people. If I don’t like someone, I say it.
Didn’t you say something about the Mamma Mia! film being rubbish?
Oh, that’s a dreadful film! It’s the truth, it’s a dreadful film. It made a huge amount of money. I’m an intellectual snob.
When you went to India for the documentary The Real Marigold Hotel, were you ever tempted to relocate there?
I wasn’t tempted to relocate to India, because I couldn’t imagine doing it without my partner. If she wanted to come, then yes, I could imagine it. I loved India. The thing that’s worrying about India is that there aren’t enough loos. And [Indian Prime Minister] Modi has built millions of public loos because it’s desperate. Men can go wherever they can, men are lucky. But women, if you want to wee, it’s very, very difficult.
You did the voiceover for a porn movie in the Seventies, right? [For history buffs, it was Sexy Sonia: Leaves from my Schoolgirl Notebook.] Can you remember any of the lines?
No, I can’t. I don’t hold porn in my head. Unlike men, I don’t.
What’s a strange dream you’ve had?
I’m sorry to tell you this, but I find conversations about dreams unspeakably boring. There’s only one thing which is more boring, which is: “What star sign are you?” I don’t remember my dreams. And if I had interesting dreams, I’d fucking well not tell them to you! They’re private. Dreams are people’s subconscious, which should remain private.
What’s a personal favourite role that you’ve played?
I wish it were easier to answer that question, because all the roles I’ve played I’ve loved. I just played a wonderful part at the Park Theatre in London [in Sydney & the Old Girl]. The part I did before that was The Lady in the Van, in Australia earlier last year, and that was a wonderful part. Also in Australia, I did I’ll Eat You Last; the role that Bette Midler first played, about Sue Mengers, the legendary Hollywood agent. I was fantastic, I was really good!
Would you play it again, in London?
No, I won’t do it again. It was too hard, it was a one-woman show.Have you seen any of my documentaries? Did you see the one on dying [Miriam’s Dead Good Adventure]? Do watch it, because that’s the one I’m most proud of. I’ve got two more coming out. One’s on obesity, and the other is about Australia.
What’s been your least favourite role?
Well, I was in Little Shop of Horrors, and I worked in a scene with Steve Martin. I was the dental receptionist in a very funny scene. But I had to be hit all day, and fall down all day, and I came home grumpy with a headache. So I think that’s my least favourite experience, really.
What’s your scariest moment, regarding acting?
At The Old Vic they had this frightening thing called 24 Hour Plays, when you get together with actors and a writer, and they write the play, and you rehearse it and play it the next night for the public. And it is completely terrifying. I would never do it again; it frightened the shit out of me.
Have you ever broken the law?
Yes, I have broken the law. It would be in the Sixties; I stole an egg from a shop in Plaistow. I had no money. A raw egg.
To eat, or to throw at someone?
No, no, to eat.
You’re very political; have you ever been arrested?
Yes, I was arrested for throwing paper in the street, and saying to a policeman: “You’ve got a dick that small!” And he said: “I’m taking you to the station!”
What happened then? Were you cautioned for obscenity?
I was fined for parking on a double yellow line. And I had a vaginal examination…
At the police station?!
Yeah. They must have thought that I wouldn’t have liked that! Ha ha ha!
Didn’t you have an incident at the airport recently?
Yes, it was in America and I was getting irritated because we were being held up. He kept saying: “Take this out of that and put your things here.” And I said: “How big is your cock?” and he said: “I prefer mine decaffeinated!” I don’t understand how that happened.
Why are you so obsessed with cocks?
Because I know so little about them.
Do you find them beautiful, ever?
No. I really don’t. I wish that men didn’t have them and would stop being such a nuisance.
I think it’s the balls that are the nuisance, not the cock. It’s all that testosterone…
Oh no, I like balls. If the balls were there without the cock, I’d be laughing.
Do you collect anything?
I collect political cartoons of the 19th century; I’ve got some excellent Gillrays.
What are your favourite films?
I love Les Enfants du Paradis [1945], The Tree of Wooden Clogs [1978], The White Ribbon [2009, directed by Michael Haneke]. I would like to work with Haneke.
Any other filmmakers you’d love to work with?
I’ve been very lucky with the people I have worked with; I’ve worked with Scorsese, in The Age of Innocence, when I won my Bafta. That was a great thrill.
Which books would you encourage children to read?
Well, I would always encourage them to read Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, and Great Expectations.
Where do you stand on classic children’s literature like Enid Blyton?
Well I used to read Enid Blyton. Look, it doesn’t matter a fuck what children read, as long as they read. People who don’t read are not educated.
I’ve inherited everything [from my parents]. Everything. My mother’s talent. And her candid nature.
Is there anything you would literally kill for?
Mary Tyrone in Long Day’s Journey into Night. That’s the role I most want to play. Or anything by Chekhov.
I meant what would you kill for, not professionally?
You mean if I could get away with it?
Yes…
Trump. Or Boris Johnson. Any remaining Nazi, if you could put it like that.
What music are you into?
I like classical music, and my partner got me into Country. Flatt & Scruggs, and Rosalie Sorrels are my favourites.
Have you ever met Dolly Parton?
I have! I love her. She’s fabulous. She’s good in every way. I met her because I was in the first London production of the musical Wicked and the director was a wonderful guy called Joe Mantello, who had just directed Dolly Parton in 9 to 5, on Broadway. I said to him: “Joe, I love that woman!” And he said: “Do you want to meet her? She’s coming to London.” So I said: “Jesus Christ, yes!” And he arranged that we could have a meeting. I only spoke to her for a few minutes.
Let’s talk about your family. Were you close to your mother?
I adored my mother, absolutely adored her. In the mornings, I’d come into her bedroom, get into her bed and we would talk. I loved her, absolutely loved her.
Have you inherited much from your parents in terms of your personality, would you say?
I’ve inherited everything. Everything. My mother’s talent. And her candid nature.
Was she an actress?
She wasn’t an actress, but she wanted to be.
Did she encourage your acting?
Yes. And my sadness is that she was dead by the time I got the OBE. She would have just swelled, it would have been a real thrill.
What about your dad?
Daddy was a doctor with a great love of words. And that’s what I’ve inherited – a great love of words.
How did that manifest itself?
Well he had a good vocabulary, he was well educated.
Was his diction as nice as yours?
He was a Scot [said in a beautiful Scottish accent]! My grandmother came to Edinburgh when she was a very little girl, so she had a mixture of Scottish and Jewish so the two accents were combined. She was a very, very nice woman.
You sounded a bit like Stanley Baxter just then. Do you know him?
Not only do I know Stanley Baxter, I had tea with him last week!
What about Leonard Rossiter [comic actor who was in Rising Damp]?
He was hateful. A very nasty, nasty man.
Did you ever know Kenneth Williams?
I knew him very well! I did loads of radio shows with Ken. I loved him, we loved each other.
Was he difficult? Apparently, his diaries show he hardly liked anyone.
No, he was morose, sad, disappointed. I took part in the compilation of his life on television, and I got a phone call after it went out; this voice said: “Hello, is that Miriam Margolyes?” I said: “Yes.” “Oh hello, it’s Maggie Smith here. I just wanted to say that I saw your comments about Ken in that programme and you were the only one who got him right.” I was thrilled with that. And what I’d said in that programme was that he was fundamentally a sad man. Everyone else was talking about how funny he was, and how glorious.
Do you have any hobbies?
Well my passionate hobby is genealogy, family trees.
Would you ever send your DNA off to be analysed?
I’m often sending it off, and trying to get members of my family to do the same so that we can find out more about ourselves. I’ve found cousins still alive whom I didn’t know I had.
Can you impersonate other people’s voices?
I can do accents and make characters. I like Mrs Gamp [assumes brilliant, coarse, cockney accent]: because I can go into ’er right away like that: “Leave the bottle on the chimley [sic]-piece, and don’t ask me to take none, but let me put my lips to it when I am so dispoged [sic], and then I will do what I am engaged to do, according to the best of my ability.” I’m class obsessed. I think it’s partly from being Jewish – we are outside the social system. I have a driver, he’s a minicab driver, and I love him, I think he’s wonderful. He’s bright and sharp, but no education. His grammar is terrible. He says things like: “I done this, I done that…” and I say: “David, it’s did this, did that.” He then goes: “Oh, what the fuck, what does it matter?” And I reply: “It matters, David, it matters.” It’s a great shame, because it makes people put him on a different level.
Are you a fag hag?
Yes!
I never assumed that about you…
I like gay boys. I don’t think it’s the most important thing about a person. I don’t like it if someone says to me: “You must meet her, she’s a lesbian!” [Looking at our four-strong shoot and interview team] Why do gay men have beards? You all have beards…
It’s a trend; we’ll probably all have something different in a couple of years’ time! Do you like drag?
I love drag! That’s one thing I love… drag!
A selection of Miriam’s own personal photos. Clockwise from top left: As Helena Rubinstein in Madame Rubinstein, at the Park Theatre, London (2017) / As a child with her grandmother / On University Challenge (1963) / Miriam’s parents
What is the secret to your amazingly long relationship? [Miriam and her partner have been together for 53 years.]
Well, cynics would say – and, actually, I think they may be right – we don’t live together.
What is your view on infidelity? Is it game over, or not necessarily, depending on the kind of relationship you have?
It just depends on people. You know, you have to know the person. If they couldn’t bear it, then don’t tell them, but don’t do it again, because infidelity is wrong and it’s stupid, and it spoils things. Loyalty’s important. But men think with their dicks – they can’t help it. It’s just awful.
A lot of men use the excuse that because it was “just sex”, it didn’t mean anything – and therefore the relationship’s safe.
But it means something to the woman. Are you all children?!
Do you get people stalking you?
I hope not! If so, I haven’t noticed.
What are you like out and about, when the public approach you?
I get it all the time, everywhere, from every kind of person, and they’re always charming, and so, obviously, I am too.
It’s not surprising: you are a National Treasure! I think you’re due a damehood soon…
No, I don’t deserve it, I haven’t done enough to merit such a thing.
Really?
Well, I’ve done a lot for charity. That is true.
Would you accept one?
Well, of course I would. Like a shot!
Do you have a statue of yourself at Madame Tussauds?
No, I don’t – they don’t have enough wax, darling!
And it’s on this endearing self-deprecation that we must leave Miriam, as she has a lunch date at The Ivy. Indeed, as she exits our Uber, a breathless young woman stops her, gasping: “Are you… Miriam Margolyes?” and begs for a selfie with the selfless actor. Ever obliging, ever obscene, she is, dear reader, everything you’d hope she was. And definitely not a cunt.
Hair and make-up: Paul Rodgers / Photographer’s assistant: Paolo Navarino / Edited by Vicki Reeve