From Dud to Stud
What exactly does it take to turn a dud into a stud?
London Sunday Times
06-12-2005Shane Watson investigates the strange case of the middle-aged men who are suddenly transformed into sex objects. Crikey, it's even happened to Hugh Laurie.
Right. For those of you who thought this was a joke someone made up on the grounds that it was so unlikely it was be bound to get a few laughs, the rumour that Hugh Laurie has made the leap from goofy comedy actor to seriously sexy star is 100% true. It is pretty hard to swallow, especially as he has recently been seen on our television screens strutting and spluttering as the Prince Regent in reruns of Blackadder the Third. Nonetheless, this is no wind-up. Thanks to an American television series called House (now being shown on Channel 5, Thursdays, 10pm), Laurie, of Bertie Wooster fame, is a hot-stuff star with a serious female following. As I write, women are balling up their knickers and Jiffy-bagging them to the set.
Laurie is merely the latest in a recent spate of men who have made the transition from fairly average youngish man to devilishly attractive older person. We're not talking about weathering well, we're talking about being pretty unremarkable in the years that are supposed to count and then, bam!, somewhere in between the late- forties and fifties, hitting a whole new level. So, what exactly does it take to turn a dud into a stud just when he was expecting to hang up his seduction shoes? Since when has Laurie been heart-throb material, and how the devil has he pulled it off? The answer is surprisingly simple: character.
Laurie has been given a sexy identity courtesy of the writers of House. In the series, he plays not just a doctor (automatic seven out of 10 on the sex rating), but a tough-talking, hardball- playing, alpha-male bastard (that's worth at least an extra two). Okay, he has been given a bit of a Hollywood makeover. He has the tan, the close-cropped, grizzled beard and the "blue steel" stare, courtesy of some director practised at converting soppy middle-aged actors into this season's top totty. But what counts in the making of a Man Unexpectedly Sexy in Later Life (Musill) are the lines he gets and where he gets to say them. The tight, bare torso is a requirement for the younger sex symbol (so you can put it away, all you TV chefs). What makes a Musill is character, confidence, experience -even if he is just playing a part.
Take Bill Murray. One minute he was the funny, pockmarked actor whom everyone vaguely remembered from Groundhog Day, the next he was in a small independent film called Lost in Translation and I was sitting in bars with girlfriends, misty eyed, debating the chances of us ever finding a man that lovable. Overnight, thanks to Sofia Coppola, a self-deprecating camouflage-T-shirt scene, a tender no- sex bedroom scene and an "I'm not afraid to make an arse of myself" karaoke scene, Murray had become the man who answered all our emotional fantasies. It's the same ball park as the Laurie revolution, because, in both cases, their new-found appeal has zero to do with the conventional sex-interest requirements - nice bum, nice eyes, nice smile -and everything to do with the people they are (or are meant to be).
It also happened with Bill Nighy in Love Actually. He was at least 10 years older than the official love interests in the film, but stole the show with his cheeky rock'n'roll swagger. (NB: hopeless vanity is endearing in the middle-aged love god, as long as it's accompanied by lashings of self-awareness and vulnerability, which is why Michael Douglas, Harrison Ford and Pierce Brosnan don't make the grade.) In fact, with a few notable exceptions, such as Jack Nicholson, the men we love in middle age are all people who have come from left field, rather than Hollywood sex symbols with a few years on the clock. Again, this has to do with the very specific appeal of the middle-aged sex interest. If he's practised it, if he's had the tucks, got the ear pierced, thinks he's still got a few good years in him and quite fancies himself on the dancefloor in a V- neck Pringle jumper, then it's not doing it for us.
Bottom line: we like our Musills to be real men. It's fun to fancy pretty, petulant boys, but after a while you crave something a bit more substantial. Hence that other recent addition to the group, Jose Mourinho. The Chelsea manager is the size of a leprechaun (did anyone else see him disappearing into his chair next to Gary Lineker?), and yet that steely personality, wrapped up in those sharp cashmere coats, makes the teams on the pitch look like a bunch of girls. Generally speaking, smooth is not a great quality in the middle-aged man, but Mourinho makes up for it with his rottweiler personality and air of invincibility.
Let's be clear: a strong character, experience, sense of humour and so on are not enough in themselves, it's the script that counts. And there are limits to our tolerance on the physical front. Put it this way, Alan Sugar has no reason to be punching the air just yet.
Copyright (c) Times Newspapers Limited 2005
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