Close encounters with the bad boys of cinema.
Aug 30, 2010, Vol. 15, No. 47 • By CYNTHIA GRENIER
Peter O’Toole, Last Man Standing, was delightful, witty, and charming—someone you would like to have as a friend. He certainly made life on any film set, to say nothing of a festival, a special pleasure. I see, looking through my files, that I once described O’Toole thus at a festival in Sicily:
The last time I saw O’Toole was in a small café on Rue Washington in Paris, just around the corner from my apartment. It wasn’t very late, maybe ten in the evening, and the place was deserted except for O’Toole. He was slumped down, his head on his arms on the table. He looked lonely and, well, miserable. Of course, I couldn’t just say, “Well, hello, Peter. How about coming up to my place.” Fortunately, his health is such nowadays that drink is no longer possible. Also, happily, he is still acting. Last Man Standing.
Cynthia Grenier is a writer in Washington.
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