Morrissey is one of the most charismatic singers to have ever graced a stage, and one of the most fascinating that I have been involved with. Now they are doing the biopic of his younger years, which I should imagine will present the casting director with an ENORMOUS problem. Who can they find in this country who can effect a Manchester accent AND look as staggeringly lovely as he did when younger?
I remember him pre-fame, when he used to knock around with James Maker. They used to go to the Gemini, with its infamous back yard and the lovely Peter Adams, who I knew so well and who tragically died of AIDS. I'm not sure if they were there when I judged the heat of Mr Gay UK. They may have been.
There have been a glut of excellent biopics, of late. Sometimes, as with the two that I'm involved with, one has to bend the truth slightly to placate the backers--the men with the money. There's a rather fabulous Rudolph Valentino biopic doing the rounds at the moment--the women in are not so hot, but the man playing Rudy is scorching. There's been one Dalida film, and we're about to get another, "Dalida & Tenco", about that ill-fated love-affair. I've seen the actors and they are both stunning! There's also one at the development stage about Maria Callas, which promises to be a corker.
And now, hot on the heels of George Formby, I've been asked to revise my biography of Morrissey--not the kiss-and-tell, but "Landscapes", which I published when I was "Morrissey-green". The publisher who approached me called it "laudatory and cloying". The odd thing is they weren't interested until today, which is why I'll be doing it myself. As the first two both hit the six-figure mark, charity begins at home, as they say! I just hope I'm not regarded as some kind of latter day Johnny Rogan--you know, spending one's entire career writing about the same person so that you have a "Cruising versus Fedora" scenario. Morrissey wanted him to die in a smash on the M6--I borrowed the fatwah for a few pariahs of my own. Then when he found out that Rogan didn't drive, he wished for a hotel fire. I guess it doesn't matter how you cook the eggs so long as they're edible when they reach the table!
So "Steven", here we come. Just don't let out boy down!