MICHAEL BARRYMORE is probably the only Fringe performer to be refusing most interview requests this August. He was once rumoured to be the highest paid man on television and certainly one of the medium's biggest rating draws for a long time, so the media interest in him is nothing new, but the focus of attention shifted irrevocably in March 2001 when the body of Stuart Lubbock was found in Barrymore's swimming pool.
The entertainer has been questioned twice by police investigating the death of Lubbock and, following the second interview last September, the Crown Prosecution Service said Barrymore should not be charged.
That does not mean he can draw a line
under the events of that night. Barrymore is in Edinburgh to play the part of Spike Milligan in the play Surviving Spike and the events of seven years ago look likely to cast a shadow over the run.
Written by Richard Harris, the piece is based on the memoirs of Norma Farnes, the ex-Goon's agent, manager and friend for 36 turbulent years. It opens at the Assembly Rooms next Thursday and Terry Lubbock, father of Stuart, has sworn to attend the premiere in a bid to keep the story of his son's unsolved death in the headlines.
Speaking during a break in rehearsals, Barrymore says he is powerless to alter the actions of other people or the perception they may have of him. "I'm not in control of what other people have to do," he says. "All of us, including me, are only responsible for ourselves otherwise you can't be there for other people. If I start thinking that I am responsible for him, them, people who work for me or my family, then I will be so all over the place that I will never focus, never get anything done and will be of no use to anybody."
Barrymore is receptive to most questions, but sounds worn and, at times, vulnerable. He doesn't do self-pity but, understandably, he does come across as a man who has weathered several storms. He takes some solace from the fact that he can still count on fairly widespread public support; he came second in Celebrity Big Brother in 2006. It's not the same as being voted TV's favourite entertainer, as Barrymore was several times, but when the fall from grace has been as spectacular as his then any public approval must look like a lifeline.
He is still recognised and stopped in the street which, at six foot three and with almost two decades as the primetime king of light entertainment under his belt, is no shock. What does surprise him is that members of the public buttonhole him in order to confess their difficulties to him.
"Over the years, I've been in so many people's front rooms," he says. "A lot of people have been brought up with me and I've got time for them. For some reason, they tell me all their problems. I think that they think, because I've had a few of my own, that I can sort it out for them."
A 'few' doesn't really do justice to the catalogue of misery which Barrymore has endured, inflicted on others and, often, brought upon himself. Even without the extensively covered events of the past seven years, Barrymore's problems have been numerous. Issues with drink and drugs, a difficult acceptance of his homosexuality, and a subsequent divorce from his wife of 21 years have all left their mark.
It is not the most enviable set of qualifications but the dramatic contrast between his once starry career and a tumultuous domestic life makes Barrymore an apt choice for the role of Spike Milligan. If anyone has an insight into the potential yawning chasm between the public perception of the joker on stage and the train wreck in the dressing room, it is Barrymore.
Milligan's manic depression made him a nightmare to live and work with. His manager, Norma Farnes, played here by Jill Halfpenny, was closely involved in his personal and professional life, a task shouldered by Barrymore's former and now deceased wife and manager Cheryl. Barrymore can see some similarities between himself and Milligan.
"Yes, certain similarities. I would like people to think that I wasn't quite so manic when I get upset. In situations where I might say nothing and just keep it in my head, Spike doesn't. He says exactly what he wants and if you get hurt along the way then you get hurt. He probably would not mean it and then he would try and make it up in another way. Who knows which is healthier?
"Had he been around now, he would have been diagnosed as bipolar. He is either manic, typing away and working non-stop day after day, or he shuts down completely. There is no middle ground with him. He could be really horrible to somebody one minute and then giving away his money to strangers the next. Norma doesn't just manage him, she ends up sorting out his life."
Where fact and fiction differ most sharply is in the proximity between the two performers – the on- and off-stage personas. Milligan's comedy might have looked anarchic but was a tightly scripted act. A large part of Barrymore's success on shows such as Strike It Lucky and My Kind Of Music was his willingness to engage the crowd and work with whatever they threw at him. He reckons that what an audience sees of him on stage is not too distant from the way he is out of the spotlight. It is a character trait that used to exasperate his wife.
"Years ago, I remember my wife asking my agent why I couldn't just be normal when I came off stage?" he says. What she could not grasp was that being on stage often felt more comfortable and normal for Barrymore than real life. Even now, he says that the two hours he spends on stage are easier than the 22 spent off it. I point out that most people would feel the opposite way: uncomfortable in the limelight, however brief, and much happier with long term anonymity.
"I think that's why certain artists struggle in dealing with the highs of being really comfortable and happy on stage," says Barrymore.
He says he doesn't know how to do anything other than be on the stage, but by that he means that being an entertainer is more to him than a simple job or way to earn a living. It seems to be how he defines himself. It makes him feel whole.
"One of my favourite parts is rehearsals and then doing the show. If I am doing that and the actual show then I am complete. I don't need any more. The stark reality is that I can't live my life just rehearsing and just doing show business. I feel more vulnerable when I am not on stage or in rehearsal than I do when performing."
Barrymore says he is looking forward to playing Milligan. He enjoys the acting work, points out that it's where he started years ago and that he has taken a long, circuitous route to get back there. "It seems like I have lived my life the other way around," he says.
Unusually for someone who has spent so long in the public eye – and, recently, a lot of the attention has been hostile – Barrymore gives open, unguarded responses to questions. There is only one that gives him pause. I ask if he is happy and it almost stumps him.
"Am I happy?" he asks back, slowly. "Yeah, I am."
Surviving Spike is at the Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh (0131-623 3030), July 31 until August 25, 4.15pm www.assemblyfestival.comThe full article contains 1302 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
