AS I APPROACH the hotel where I am to meet Richard Armitage I realise that I may not recognise him. Having watched the BBC’s adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell’s
North and South last autumn, I have an image of him as a dour but mesmerising Victorian mill owner called Mr Thornton who wears a top hat, cravat and frock coat. I have combed through the websites set up to celebrate him and know that he is six foot two with blue-grey eyes, and that he was born in Leicestershire on August 22, 1971. In spite of the best efforts of the thousands of women who continue to confess their adoration for him, little else is known about the man they call, as though he really were their own, RA.
My excuse for contriving to meet him is that the swoon factor exerted by Mr Thornton has encouraged the BBC to release a DVD of North and South. To quote one who awaits her copy: “I was so sure it would be here today! I am desolated! SOBS WAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!” Another used a quote from Mrs Gaskell to express herself on the BBC drama message board, which crackled with unbridled desire for a few weeks before the mean old BBC closed it down: “I am in the Charybdis of passion, and must perforce circle and circle ever nearer round the fatal centre.” On another internet shrine lovestruck ladies continue to pore over the lingering moments on a railway station platform where Mr Thornton’s repression melted away and he finally kissed Margaret Hale, the woman he had previously both repelled and fascinated. Oh, how we wept!
Thus Richard Armitage, formerly a cameo actor whose presence had largely passed the world by, is suddenly being hailed as the next Colin Firth, the man a hyperventilating female population wishes to see as a romantic lead in — well, anything, really. And here he is, in black jeans and T-shirt and adorned with some rather fetching stubble, in the chair next to me. And it is a strange and entirely enjoyable experience, I admit, to know that I am fulfilling at least one of the fantasies of a considerable proportion of the female population, even if just for a couple of hours.
So RA, what does it feel like to be a sex god? Actually I don’t put it like that, because even though we are newly acquainted I can see that he is a mild-mannered chap, and I don’t want to embarrass him. Asking what he thinks of the reaction to North and South seems kinder.
“I’m quite reluctant to seek it out,” he replies. “I know there was a message board but I don’t like to read too much stuff so I’ve relied on other people telling me. I’ve had letters so I’m aware of what things are being said, but I’m a bit, kind of, hesitant.”
Surely he realises that half of Middle England is in love with him? He laughs. “No they’re not, they’re in love with him (Mr Thornton), aren’t they? No, it’s him, it’s not me. It’s nice, I guess, but it’s funny because I never saw the character in that way. He dresses like an undertaker and there’s a certain amount of suppression in that character, but he’s not obviously a romantic figure.”
Is he aware of the self-styled Armitage Army, whose 937 members follow his every public move? He isn’t. Does he realise that their message board dedicated to him has received 64,000 epistles? “Oh. Is it all the same person?” Er, no RA, trust me on this. Do you know that you were recognised by a lustee at Waterloo station and stalked for a few minutes? “I was stalked at Waterloo station?” he asks incredulously. Well, stalked in a nice way. “She should have said hello,” he says sweetly. “God, I’ve got to be really careful, haven’t I? Smelling of body odour, looking like . . .
“That’s weird, isn’t it? It’s a bit embarrassing because you don’t plan for that when you prepare for the part. I didn’t realise there would be an emotional reaction, or whatever that reaction is — a physical reaction? I value it but, at the same time, it’s only a character.”
You will see that the lovely RA is naturally serious and modest, possibly because his career to date has involved infinitely more slog than recognition. If he is bewildered by the hyperbole that now surrounds him from afar, it is surely even more endearing to know that he seems never to have considered the transference of romantic fantasy from character to actor. Or at least not in relation to him, which must be a credit to having a nice mum and dad in an unpretentious Leicestershire village where he and his elder brother grew up in a Barratt house: “Whether we had money or not I never knew. We were always made to wait for things, to save. I’m kind of like that now, I understand the value of that and they’re still like it, really solid and grounded.”
Dad was an engineer, mum a secretary, and he went to a comprehensive school until he was 14, when he nagged his mum enough to let him go to a vocational school in Coventry where he could do drama. “I was quite solitary. I would be up in my room reading books so I developed a vivid imagination. Mum and dad were brilliant, always supported me, never pushed or dissuaded me.”
To get an Equity card he worked in a circus in Budapest, which was less romantic than it sounds, he points out: “It’s got to be a low point in showbusiness sleeping next to the elephants.” Back in the UK he toured in musical theatre before seeking out classical training at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art and later the RSC. It was at LAMDA that he had his longest relationship, though getting him to admit to any emotional involvement with a woman is no easier than getting Mr Thornton to discuss his feminine side.
Is there anyone in his life? “Not really. Nobody serious. Yet. Dating.” Has there ever been anyone special? “I guess if there had been I would have married them. No.” Has he ever been in love? “Yeah. I think so. I don’t know. It’s hard to say, isn’t it? Is it love or maybe infatuation? I did date someone when I was at drama school but it was on and off. That’s the weird thing because what you’re doing at drama school is quite revealing, you’re quite vulnerable. We’ve remained friends, I guess because you’ve been so open to someone.”
He remains a solitary person, he insists. He has a house in suburbia which he likes because there are lots of families around (“I don’t think I could do Chelsea”), he drives his dad’s old Citroën, and he still feels drawn to Yorkshire, where his father grew up — something to do with directness and honesty, he thinks.
“I like my own space and once my door is closed I can turn into a bit of a monster. I’m really quite messy, I can stay at home and not wash and not shave and it’s hard to do that with somebody else.”
There would of course be no shortage of volunteers to share his abandon, but this is Richard Armitage, committed to his acting, private about his personal life and aware that whatever the ministrations of the Armitage Army, the two are separate entities. He is now filming a contemporary version of Macbeth for TV, and even when he does command leading roles (he admits that North and South has brought about some interesting meetings, though he is aware of the perils of success, too — “It must be really difficult not to be able to fail”) one suspects that he will not metamorphose into a Notting Hill smoothie, and thank goodness for that.
Our photographer awaits him and for some reason RA disappears to change, emerging in a brand new shirt, complete with the creases from where it had been wrapped around the cardboard.
- North and South is available on DVD from BBC Video, £19.99
