Deeper Rivers - Joan Rivers interview

America's first lady of laughter is branching out into serious autobiographical drama at this year's Fringe, but there's still plenty of laughter among the tears, writes Aidan Smith

JOAN Rivers has already been up for two hours and nursed a friend through an emotional meltdown when I call her Manhattan apartment at 8.30am – and after the grande dame of comedy is done with me, her personal trainer Frances ("She looks like Angelina Jolie without the tattoos") will put her through her three-times-weekly exercise routine.

Our chat is mere seconds old and already I'm being reminded of a Rivers wisecrack – "The first time I see a jogger smile, I'll consider it." So is this her getting into shape for Edinburgh because at just turned 75 she's worried about the rigours of the Festival Fringe?

"Get outta here!" she rasps. "If you can't get up on stage in a place like Edinbuurro having given yourself the best part because you wrote the goddam play, then you must be dead already. So I'm 75, who cares? People who make a big deal of their birthdays when they're past 30 are a bit embarrassing. I celebrated this one the way I like – working – and this year it was Pittsburgh.

"I'd like to die on stage, I reckon. I don't think about dying much, though obviously it's very, very final – unless you're Shirley MacLaine. The worst place to die would be in a cheap restaurant – can you imagine the shame? So yes, on stage. In America you only get paid if you've done half your show so maybe I should Krazy Glue myself to the stool so I don't fall over until 34 minutes have passed.

"You never know, maybe it'll be in Edinburro where I go on my way rejoicing. The Festival is the eighth wonder of the world, it's so amazing. If you say you like theatre and you've never been, you're an idiot. Thing is, if I was to snuff it in Edinburro they'd have to bring me back and that would involve refrigeration – an extra burden for my daughter."

As you can tell, there's nothing wrong with Rivers' stamina for conversation, especially after breakfast ("Grain crackers and honey") and before exercise ("I despise it") while she's gazing out on Central Park as her three dogs mooch about her pad. And as must also be apparent, all this talk of "plays" and "theatre" means Edinburro is about to glimpse an altogether different Joan Rivers.

A Work In Progress By A Life In Progress is autobiographical drama with a cast of four and Rivers plays herself throughout, having rejected the idea of a young actresses for her early life because "that stuff so makes me want to vomit". Beginning backstage at the Oscars where she's preparing for one of her red-carpet reviews of the gong-show fashions, Rivers reflects with humour and candour on her 75 years – the highs and the lows. As the old song goes, she's had many rivers to cross.

"Four goddam times," she says, referring to setbacks which left her desolate and defeated, requiring her to re-build her life – for instance, in 1995 a business partner bolted and she was left $37m in debt. "That was when 37 million really was 37 million. I do 200 shows a year and every night I pay back a little more. I'm maybe three-quarters of the way there now but these people don't want me to die because I still owe them. I can walk down the darkest street and know I'll be safe."

Prior to that, in 1987, her husband and manager Edgar Rosenberg had committed suicide and Rivers says she's still haunted by her failure to appreciate how ill he was. "He was seeing a psychiatrist but I found out later that all these two men talked about was history. I should have sued the shrink. My husband internalised everything; he was Victorian like that. I admire that trait in acquaintances – with them I'm like: 'Too much information. I'm not interested in your constipation' – but not in friends like the one I was just helping out."

Rivers has had three big romances since the tragedy. "That's not so terrible, is it?" She says younger men are "too arrogant" and reckons older ones are more fun: "When they fart, dust comes out." So would she marry again? "Marry? Never. Live with a man, I don't know ... With one of those other guys I got very close. And then both our lawyers said: 'Are you crazy?' And then all the children said: 'Hey, that means less for me!'"

Rivers has played the UK before, but never for so long – 75 performances for her 75 years, including 19 in Edinburgh. She's demanded a good hotel with 24-hour room service and plans to hit the antique shops with gusto. "Last time I bought some furniture for my summer home in Connecticut and a portrait of this old Scottish couple who I christened the MacMalinskys, Malinsky being my maiden name." And in return for raiding the capital of its heirlooms, she promises we'll learn something from a production we're getting before London and Broadway.

"For one thing, you'll learn that Joan Rivers is shorter and fatter than you think," she laughs. Unafraid to admit to having had plastic surgery, she's even guest-starred in Nip/Tuck, the telly drama satirising America's obsession with trying to halt the ravages of time.

"I couldn't say I'll never have any more, though I know I'll have gone too far if I end up having to fix my earrings to my ass. But some women will sit there and tell you they've had nothing done and I swear you don't know where the voice is coming from."

Joan Rivers, of course, simply doesn't do vague – in any way.

• Joan Rivers: Work In Progress By A Life In Progress, Udderbelly's Pasture, Thursday until August 20, 3.45pm

• www.underbelly.co.uk/edinburgh