Anger is an Energy: My Life Uncensored (39 page)

I also invited my friend John Gray over for two weeks – he wanted to have a holiday. I got a load of beer in. And guess what we got in to watch on laser disc?
Aguirre, Wrath of God
,
and the other mad art film Werner Herzog did, about the paddle-steamer,
Fitzcarraldo
! Wowzers, what an evening of weirdness! It’ll drive you nuts, unless you’ve got a real good
place inside your head for the absorption of that kind of negative humanity. That nitty gritty kind of thing that Herzog does, he abuses his audience. But not really, you come away and
there’s a good learning curve in there. I suppose, really, it’s the study of temperament.

Little did I know that the art-movie world would soon beckon me to stand in front of the cameras again.

For all the obvious excitement of moving to New York, the whole thing also broke my heart. When I made the decision to move, there was no Nora involved in that, but we never
separated mentally. I had obligations towards the band, and it looked like we could get up and running out there. In all of that, I never forgot her. In fact, I couldn’t go out with anyone
else. I didn’t want to, and I’d feel terrible about even considering such a thing. That was the ultimate woman I’d met there, and I wanted that to be forever.

New York offered all manner of temptations, and ‘no’ was the answer to every single one of them. Absolutely no interest. I didn’t care if people thought I was a weirdo. I knew
what I wanted to be committed to, and what was worthy of commitment.

I’m very, very loyal, me. I hook into one thing, and I wanted that one thing to work. I’d never felt comfortable being a Jack-the-lad playboy. I can’t stand flippant one-night
stands. The next day, I’d feel horrible about it, how pointless it was, and what the hell was that all about?

I’m always looking for deeper bonds and relationships and connections. I basically like to study the human beings around me and find out what makes them tick and
love them for that, warts and all. That’s a far more enjoyable process for me, rather than just ping-ponging about for no particular good reason. You don’t learn anything, you get
nothing out of it, and before you know it, you find yourself utterly alone, and stupid for it.

You have to learn to give, and that’s the big thing, why relationships work – it’s a give situation. And the giving is better than the getting. Well, that’s my
experience. Show me a happy multi-millionaire. All these situations are relative. Any human activity is an insight into all human activity. If you’re just busy collecting trophies, well,
you’ve actually achieved nothing. Zero. It’s just stuff cluttering up your toilet.

I don’t want to put down, or sound like I’m viewing negatively, the freedom to operate as you want; that’s fine for certain people and indeed that will always be their way.
It’s not what I can put up with. It’s the talking, the chats, the warmth of being close to each other emotionally – that matters much more than random free sex.

I just thought Nora was absolutely adorable, fantastic, unlike anybody around. There was none of that hippie florally nonsense or Biba rubbish going on with her. Nora was directly related to
1940s
film noir
, trying to find herself in this sense of restrained but sexually attractive gear, and outside of the world of flip-flops and long floral-print dresses.

Nora liked to show a bit of knee in a pencil skirt. From my early childhood, that was the proper look of the skinhead bird. When Nora did wear floral prints, they’d be above the knee, and
‘happy-go-lucky skipping across summer lawns’. You know, that ‘free of fashion victim’ stuff,
but then at the same time incredibly well thought-out.
The perfect clothing. Clothes are so important, in an unimportant way. Once you understand what you’re doing with clothes, you don’t have to think about it any more, you do it
naturally, and you wear for the occasion. If it’s hot, don’t be wearing a studded leather jacket and calling yourself a punk! You’re not a punk at that point, you’re a
plonk. There are moments where you have to wear according to the weather and the location. Adaptability is really what I’m talking about. But I digress here. Sorry, it’s the way my
brain works.

With me in me bondage gear, and then my Kenny MacDonald suits, I suppose visually you’d have thought, ‘This is not going to work.’ But mentally, it did on every level, and all
the suspect characters that call themselves my alleged band members and friends and affiliates, didn’t quite grasp that. The sparks flew. I don’t know how you explain sparks, where
charisma leans into something just incredibly inviting. There’s nothing that can stop that, not on earth, and that’s my explanation of love.

It’s amazing how people will try to chip away at a relationship so deeply founded in truth. We do not lie to each other, that’s the fun of it; we enjoy the truth. I’ve never
been able to share that with anybody, really. In the workplace, maybe, but not in that deeply physical, personal way. It’s inexplicable and I suppose it’s really the reason that you
feel ultimately that you were born. It feels right, it landed right.

The ongoing separation was very difficult, but also at the same time, she knew damn well she could trust me. When Nora finally came out to visit me in New York, there were all kinds of
animosities at the loft. Keith was unaccepting, and Jeannette was indifferently weird. It was ugly. I was just trying to keep the two things running. I realized that Nora
meant more to me, and indeed Public Image meant more to me, than to be putting up with spoilt nonsense from Keith.

Nora gave me the bolster to get out of the rut. I realized that the scene I was in was a little bit fucking
down
. Every now and again, those that really care for you, they’ll give
you a bump. I realized how much it’d broken my heart to be apart. I’d thought I was too young for a permanent relationship at that time, but now I knew that’s exactly what I
really needed.

You have to go through that, you have to find yourself, and you have to get outside of the run of the mill. You know, if I hadn’t taken my chances elsewhere, or eyed up the competition, or
window-shopped a little bit before I met Nora, it wouldn’t have felt quite so healthy to become 100 per cent totally committed to her, which is now what I am – and indeed am with
everything. I just took a long time to realize that, and commit to it, and ‘me babby’ waited for me.

Once I make that commitment, it’s forever. That’s how me and Nora are and were. It’s quite brilliant how it worked out. I can’t imagine living without her, not at all,
and it doesn’t matter what people tell her about me either; here we are, and here we will be.

A
s a member of the Musicians’ Union, as a lead singer and a performer, you’re automatically an actor, apparently. You’re on a
roster somewhere, like a pool of thespians waiting to be hired, blissfully unaware. Some of the agencies we were using to push tours had a film agenda too, and so ideas would come about through
those kinds of channels. It certainly wasn’t anything we were actively chasing but, out of the blue, in came this offer to star in a low-budget Italian film opposite a young Harvey Keitel. It
was based on a novel by Hugh Fleetwood called
The Order of Death
. It got very confusing as the film ended up with different names in different countries –
Copkiller
in Europe,
Corrupt
in the States, and
Order of Death
in Britain, which is what I’ve always called it.

It was a wonderful opportunity to burst into something new, exciting, thrilling and completely dangerous. Unknown territory to the max! I was terrified, obviously, because it was acting and I
hadn’t got a clue about how to do it, other than the try-out for
Quadrophenia
, which hadn’t landed me the part. So it was a case of ‘Oh my God, what a hole I’ve got
myself into here.’ I really had no one to back me up or support me. I had no support system during
this period, and the only reason I could do it, and did do it, was
because there was nothing going on in the band. Nothing at all.

The decision to do the film was not a difficult one to make. Getting the relevant visas, however, was. After accepting the deal, but before shooting started, I flew out to Rome to meet the
producers. Trying to get back into America was a nightmare. They pulled me up at immigration and in my suitcase I had my contract, which had already been signed in New York. Therefore I
didn’t have the correct work-permit paperwork to go with it. That was a very difficult situation to sort out, but some real good came out of it, because a couple of people that worked on
getting me my immigration visas, Bob Tulipan and Maureen Baker, became really good friends.

Maureen Baker is a superstar. She has done all sorts of interesting things over the years; she also used to photograph us when we were in New York, but for a long time there she helped get
performers permits to work in other countries. She did all of the Kirov Ballet visas, for instance. That’s charming, isn’t it? It’s an interesting universe. There’s so many
great people in the world that do so many different things, and if you don’t have an open mind, you won’t grasp how that can help you improve yourself and your own agendas. That
doesn’t mean that I’m going to run off and become a ballet dancer. I’m just highly impressed by her motivations, and that in turn inspires me.

So, between May and July 1982, I took time out from the band and buggered off to Italy. Filming was divided between Rome and New York. I had a great time doing it, and I got on very well with a
good number of the people involved. I got to work with Harvey Keitel, and I like him a lot. But not only him: there was also the writer of the script and the book, Hugh Fleetwood, and the director,
Roberto Faenza.

Watching their approach to putting a thing together was thrilling. I particularly enjoyed Rome – the meetings and the planning of the next day’s scenes, and the director’s wife
cooking pasta
Italiano style. Proper Italy! And the rows the Italians get themselves into, and the writer of the book translating what these people were yelling for me
– fantastic! Roberto’s wife – I thought it was his wife, she may as well have been, they lived together – she was one of the producers, and she was the one cooking, but the
rows those two would have! And so actual studying of scripts was absolutely pushed to the back. And ‘Can you please outline what you expect my character to be?’ – that was of no
consequence! Personal animosity was the order of the day. I love Italians – they’re ready to explode at any point.

Out of all that I had to play this lunatic character, Leo Smith, this spoiled rich brat left to his own devices. He was meant to be from a lonely but wealthy background, and it was sort of about
how that can ultimately corrupt you. I could connect to that on a certain level – but also not. Obviously his education taught him that he was superior to others, and that was the crux of my
angle, how I tried to make it work. I wasn’t getting any help, really, but that’s all right. Harvey’s best advice to me was, ‘Just get on with it! And take it serious once
that camera’s on!’ Fantastic, thanks. And there I was, struggling, trying to remember dialogue, which is the hardest thing for me. I can’t cope with learning dialogue because
it’s not coming from a deeply personal place. Many actors have told me this: if you have a strong personality, you’re gonna find that almost impossible to do. You have to be a blank
card.

There was clearly meant to be a
Performance
thing of role reversal going on in the film, like, ‘Who’s actually dominating and manipulating who? It’s an alpha-male
scenario: who’s really calling the shots here?’ I thought Mick Jagger in
Performance
was astounding, made all the more so because of that solo song he does, that blues song on
guitar, ‘Memo From Turner’. At least he had something to grip onto there, whereas I didn’t. The one thing in the back of my mind was: don’t end up like Dave Bowie!
He’s so woodentop on film.

As it turned out, I wasn’t rehearsed enough in acting to know
how to portray the character. I wasn’t able to look the other players in the eye and deliver the
lines, because the second I’d catch their eye, the dialogue instantly disappeared from my memory. It would be, ‘Ha-a-arv-ey, what do I do now?’

Of course, I was absolutely intimidated by Harvey. Come on, how could you not be? What a fucking fine actor. But again, at the same time, I was kind of angry with him because he took his
roleplaying too serious. If we’d go out for dinner together, he’d still be in role. Because his part was a policeman, he’d be looking for his gun in his holster. These things
would matter more to him than having fun. I said to him at one dinner party, ‘Come on, let’s have fun!’ and he turned around and went, ‘What is fun?’ Seriously!
‘Bloody hell, wow!’ For once in my life, I was left speechless.

He didn’t seem to know too much about me, or at least didn’t let on that he did. Then, after we’d shot the film in September, he came to the Roseland Ballroom in New York to
see me play with PiL, and he was like, ‘Oh my God, I never knew that’s what you did! Wow!’ Whatever character he was seeing in me while we were doing the film, he wasn’t
aware of what Mr Rotten does when he gets on stage, and how I can let rip, and how I can really get a crowd going . . . I’m wide open on stage, and maybe I wasn’t showing that in the
making of the film. It’s a shame: he could’ve taught me how to use that energy in an acting kind of way. I’ve met him since and we’re all right with each other.

I was shocked by what good reviews I got for
Order of Death
. The film critic on BBC TV at the time, Barry Norman, said something like, ‘So far so good, but we have to wait for his
next film before we can determine if he’s a really good actor, or if he was just playing himself.’ I most certainly wasn’t being myself!

I realized I was outside of my comfort zone, but not in a very interesting way. I didn’t like the tension. I can understand the tension of getting ready for a gig – when you actually
go on and do it it’s an hour and a half of relief. In a film, it’s fifteen hours of waiting to do one minute’s work, and a couple of side takes at different
angles. That is so confusing to the brain. What the hell am I supposed to be projecting here? By the time you do the third angle from the back of your head, you’re really
getting to grips with the role at that point, so what you’ve achieved film-wise is all the tension and anger and angst and character development that’s ever possible – from the
back of your head. It’s a different universe they live in, and it’s one I can’t get to grips with.