Blonde Ambition

This day had to come. Working Title films – makers of fluffy hits such as Four Weddings And A Funeral, Notting Hill and Love Actually, appear to have put Hugh Grant out to stud (quite an image, n’est pas?). Well, the fopster’s not quite pulling in the punters like he used to, and he’s certainly hit an age beyond which a gentleman is hardly fit for competitive tennis, let alone Kirsten Dunst.

Luckily, Paul Bettany was on hand to step into Grant’s blindingly white sneakers for Wimbledon, a comedy set against the famed (and only proper) tennis tournament, in which an ageing (well, 30, but athletes age in dog years, remember?), lowly British journeyman player embarks on a romance with a glamorous female McEnroe figure (Ms. Dunst), and in an even more unlikely development, goes all the way to the final on the grass.
Hmmm, a racquet-swinging also-ran suddenly developing a killer instinct and hitting form at Wimbledon during his final year? This wouldn’t be a thinly veiled message for anyone, surely?
“No, no, not at all”, claims Paul Bettany, “I shouldn’t say this, ’cos I’m rubbish at tennis. I got tennis knee, tennis elbow, tennis balls, I got everything during this movie. Here, I’ll show you my scars.”
And he starts rolling up his trousers to show me what was once a horrid gash. Steady, girl.
“But our film is about a winner,” he continues, “so it’s got absolutely nothing to do with Tim Henman.” Actually, I was thinking it was the Goran Ivanisevic story, but never mind.
Within about, oh, ten seconds of meeting Mr. Bettany, four things become quite apparent. Firstly, he’s a chain smoker (“What do you mean Ireland still has the smoking ban?” he cries incredulously, “I thought the people would rise up en masse and say ‘Fuck off’. I’m so disappointed now. I’m crushed!”). Secondly, as you’ve possibly gathered by his pronouncements on the British number one, he’s a bit of a cheeky monkey. Thirdly, sprawled across a couch in the Dorchester Hotel, he definitely strikes you as a languorous kind of guy, and as someone who firmly believes that indolence is what separates us from the beasts, I’m quite awestruck by his posture. And then there’s the pigmentation.
Despite countless encounters with all manner of golden and platinum tressed people down the years, Paul Bettany may well be the first natural blonde I’ve ever interviewed. No, I didn’t get to check. He is, after all, married to Jennifer Connolly, and frankly, I doubt he’d ever be that desperate. It’s just that he’s crowned by unmistakably blonde-on-blonde locks, plus he’s got those strawberry eyelashes and unassuming peek-a-boo freckles. Unless they’ve made strides in cosmetic alterations that no-one’s bothered to tell me about, then he didn’t get those out of a bottle.
“Yes”, he says, playfully flicking his hair like Farrah Fawcett, “thank you for noticing the hair. And yes, it’s the reason why I’m so completely thick.” I’m not really inclined to believe that last part. Mr. Bettany has certainly seemed canny enough with his career choices to date. Having cut his teeth in theatre and television productions, he first gained prominence essaying Malcolm McDowell’s younger self in the gloriously gory Gangster No. 1, before playing alongside Russell Crowe in both Master And Commander and A Beautiful Mind, during which he met his wife, Jennifer. Not entirely unacquainted with the perils of on-set romances with beautiful women (including Emily Mortimer and Laura Fraser), what – besides the bloody obvious – had him moving to New York to wed Ms. Connolly before they had even lived together?
“Ooh”, he gushes, “well, she’s bloody amazing, and we took our time about it, because we were both in relationships when we met. But she’s brilliant. She can speak three languages fluently. How many Americans can do that? But it was completely weird, getting married and pregnant straight way. And I learned early during the pregnancy that if she throws the kettle at you, then put it on, and make her a nice cup of tea. Once we had that straight, everything was brilliant. And I just know when people see us walking down the street, they’re thinking – how did that woman pull that fabulous guy?”
He goes on for some adorable length about her virtues, and it’s terrifically sweet coming from someone who admits to a long-standing craving for “stability, and to be a baby factory.” It wasn’t always thus. Having lost his brother in a tragic accident, Paul Bettany became something of a teen tearaway, living in fleapits, busking in doorways and taking quite a few drugs. “Oh, I did lots of things for quite a while,” he grins, “I was a little bit cheeky in those days, but I tidied myself up and immediately started getting regular work. Strange, that.”
Clearly enjoying fatherhood, both he and his Oscar-winning missus alternate between thespian duties and parental responsibilities for their young son Stellan. “Basically, when she’s doing a movie, I’m at home or hanging around like an on-set bitch”, explains Paul, “so as soon as I’m done with my Paul Bettany incorporated duties in my next film (a thriller alongside Harrison Ford), then I’m back at home doing baby-talk. And when my wife comes home, after a really tough day, needing words of comfort, I’ll just get overcome with an urge to sing ‘The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round’ at her.”
Sounds like he’s a bit too busy to get to his baby-factory ambitions just yet. “Oh no”, he smiles, “I’m going home right this minute, and I’m telling her that I’d like more kettles thrown at me, please.” Quite right.