One of the most famous faces in France, Sophie Marceau is set for international stardom in Mel Gibson’s new adaptation of Anna Karenina. John Hiscock meets her in Los Angeles. Photographs by Cliff Watts
Sophie Marceau ducks into Hollywood’s venerable Château Marmont hotel, full of apologies for being late as she brushes evidence of a rare California rainstorm from her coat. There was, she explains, a misunderstanding between her and her driver that left her waiting an hour for her car — particularly galling for someone like Sophie: ‘I just hate wasting time,’ she says in a lilting French accent. ‘I have so much to do, and time is slipping away.’
The confusion would not have happened in Europe, where 29-year-old Sophie has been a star since she was thirteen. In 1994 President Mitterrand invited her on his tour of Asia, where she is as famous as Madonna. It is only in Britain and America, it seems, that she is not yet a household name.
That is destined to change, however. The Hollywood door, which opened slightly when Mel Gibson cast her in Braveheart, is likely to swing wide when the big-budget Anna Karenina, in which she has the title role, is released later this year. Sophie’s striking beauty, forceful personality, and appealing vulnerability contribute to a performance that is likely to eclipse the previous Anna Kareninas of Greta Garbo, Vivien Leigh, and Jacqueline Bisset.
Once again, she has to thank Mel Gibson, whose Icon Productions is producing the film, for giving her one of the year’s most coveted female roles. Gibson, who believes Sophie is 'an instinctively good actress’ as well as a regal beauty, first encountered her in a Japanese magazine in which both he and she were listed among Japan’s top ten favourite film stars. She auditioned for him in London for Braveheart and got the part of the Queen, since when they have been firm friends. Sophie campaigned for the role of Anna Karenina when Gibson was passing through Paris and they met for lunch. ‘I told him I had to have the part. It was the dream role for me. I have always loved the book, and it is the role for any actress. I said, “Please, Mel. It’s me. It’s me.”’
Loath to interfere with his British director Bernard Rose, Gibson nevertheless recommended Sophie, and Rose concurred. So, for four months last year, Sophie trained in Russia with a supporting cast that included Sean Bean as her lover Vronsky, and James Fox as her husband Karenin. Sean Bean she found ‘elegant, very nice and charming’; but for her the most important member of the troupe in St Petersburg was her son, Vincent, now eighteen months old. ‘I don’t think you could cast a childless woman as Anna,’ says Rose. ‘There are too many aspects of the story that deal with her children and her separation from them; I think only a mother can really give them resonance.’
Vincent’s father is Sophie’s long-time lover, the Polish filmmaker Andrzej Zulawski, who is 24 years her senior. Their relationship, which began when she was seventeen, troubled many of her fans, who considered Zulawski too ‘dark’ and perverse for the innocent Sophie (once billed as ‘France’s little fiancée’ and ‘the Gallic Shirley Temple’). Zulawski steered Sophie away from teenage romance movies and into more sophisticated vehicles, and gave her her first nude scene in his 1984 film L’Amour Braque. But she laughs at suggestions that he is some kind of sadistic Svengali: ‘He is not easy, but I am not easy either,’ she says. ‘We have done three films together, and I’d love to work with him again. We understand each other.’
Sophie is a woman who does not hesitate to express her feelings. ‘Outspoken’ and ‘honest’ follow ‘beautiful’ as the words most used to describe her, and she concedes: ‘I do say what I think, and it does sometimes get me into trouble, but I cannot keep quiet.’ But, she hastens to add, ‘I am very easy to work with, and I am not a pain in the neck. I have been working for seventeen years, and I know what making a film is. I do not like working with people who are incompetent and unprofessional.’ It was her bluntness that led to a blow-up with the French director Bertrand Tavernier on her recent film D'Artagnan’s Daughter. ‘Now,’ she says with a rueful smile, ‘we are the worst of enemies.’ She hesitates. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t talk about it, but I will. Why not? I worked very hard on that movie. I rode, learnt to sword-fight, and it could have been a very good movie, but he was very rude to me. He chose some of the worst takes because he wanted to make it a Bertrand Tavernier movie and not a Sophie Marceau movie. I told him what I thought. We won’t be working together again.’
Of Gibson she says, ‘Mel is clever and kind, and knows exactly what he wants. He is also a good producer, because he didn’t interfere while we were filming in Russia. We know how tough and hard Hollywood is, but Mel was willing to take a risk with people who are not so famous, and let them get on with the job.’
After Braveheart, Sophie returned to Britain to make Firelight, for Bill Nicholson — ‘a wonderful script and a beautiful, emotional film’ — which will be released towards the end of the year, as will Marquise, which she filmed in France. ‘I have three movies being released this year, so I will take a break from filming for a while or else I will go insane,’ she says.
It is time for Sophie to move on. ‘I’m always in a rush, because I’m afraid of how fast things are going,’ she sighs. ‘I have a lot of children to have and a lot of books to write and a lot of films to do, and I’m terribly afraid of not having enough time. I have a lot to do in my career — not as an actress but as a woman.’
Outside, the rain has stopped, the sun is shining once again, and, for Sophie, Hollywood is beckoning.
