When I met Colin Firth at his hotel during the Toronto International Film Festival, he immediately apologized for being, in his words, “fried” from jetlag. From this point forward, if I ever interview Colin Firth again, I’d like to request that he be “fried” from jetlag. I’ve interviewed Firth twice before, and he’s always been extremely polite and cordial. This time, however, I met a Firth — the “fried” Firth — that I had never met before: The very candid Colin Firth.
Firth is at the festival in support of “Arthur Newman” (originally titled “Arthur Newman, Golf Pro”) a movie about a man who changes his identity, just seeking a blank slate in life. (In the movie, the goal of Firth’s character is to work as a golf instructor in Terre Haute, Indiana.) The theme of the film led to a discussion about Firth’s own fame and if he ever fantasized about giving that up for a taste of anonymity. His answers paint a picture of celebrity that doesn’t sound particularly appealing. We also discussed what Firth admits is one of his favorite achievements: Hosting “Saturday Night Live,” of all things. Something he’d love to do again. (And if someone from “SNL” reads this, maybe that will happen again.)
I know you, right?
I’ve interviewed you twice before. We’ve discussed you living in St. Louis for a year.
Oh, yes. Yeah, I just got off the plane, too. You have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You know what I realized, is that almost everything we get that’s written about film or spoken about it is by people who are all completely fried.
The actors and the journalists have all flown in. People who read about film should be aware of this. Should we be listening to these words, reading this stuff?