I was grateful that Gareth, my character in Four Weddings and a Funeral, died of Scottish dancing. When it came out in 1994, Aids was rampant. We’d just had Philadelphia, an honourable film with noble intentions, but once again homosexuality was identified with disease. Disease and prison were the two ways most people thought about gay people. Gareth didn’t give a toss about any of that. He died from an excess of joy and generosity, which was a wonderful thing.
Life would have been very different if I hadn’t written to Laurence Olivier. I wrote as a fan, not as somebody who ever expected to become an actor. He was artistic director of the National Theatre. I explained to him what marvellous work he was staging. He replied saying, “If you like it so much, come and work in the box office.” It proved a great vantage point. I had lunch in the canteen daily with “youngbloods” like Derek Jacobi and Michael Gambon. I started to think maybe I could do this, too.
