Diana's favourite luvvie: Richard Attenborough on the people he's met during a remarkable life



Even Richard Attenborough, that great teller of epics, would balk at directing a film about his own life, surely? The casting would be a nightmare. Where to find actors to play Princess Diana, Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandela and Indira Gandhi - all part of his extraordinary saga - for starters?

And who would play Attenborough himself? The actor would have to exude Father Christmas levels of warmth, but display the gravitas of a statesman. He would have to be twinkly, and teary, but tough; possessing the gentlest manner, but also the ability to hurl himself into what those close to him describe as 'purple poppy-eyed screamers' when riled.

He would have to really understand the highs and lows of human existence. Oh, and he would have to be short and squat, but adorned with one very distinguished beard.

Film icon: Richard Attenborough has made millions of fans during a lifetime of directing and acting

Two hours into meeting the man himself, I ask: 'So who could play you?' and not entirely flippantly. His friend and business partner Diana Hawkins - or 'darling' as he calls her - concludes: 'Oh Dick, Tony could do it!', meaning Anthony Hopkins.

Lord Attenborough won't hear of it. 'Oh no. Not Tony. Not anyone. When I fall off my twig, that will be that. Film of my life? Terrible idea. I can't think of anything worse.'

But a good judge of character? Sir Richard did profess originally taking a liking to Zimbabwe President Robert Mugabe

Still, what does he know? Just ten minutes before, Lord Attenborough had told me he'd once had tea 'and fishpaste sandwiches' with Robert Mugabe and had declared himself 'quite taken with him'.

'Oh dear,' he adds. 'That doesn't say much for my judgment. Possibly not one of my best decisions.'

He also reckons he might have turned down a lady called Madonna Ciccone when she auditioned for a role in A Chorus Line.

Lord Attenborough, perhaps our greatest cinematic giant, celebrated his 85th birthday yesterday. He may still be on that twig, as he puts it, but only just. Earlier in the summer, he tells me, he had a pacemaker fitted after a 'little heart thing'.

In fact, he fell down the stairs of his Surrey home afer a blackout caused by a heart irregularity.

'I scared the living daylights out of Sheila,' he admits. 'Had some time in hospital. They were all fussing around. Then they sorted me out with this - isn't it marvellous?'

He unbuttons his shirt, showing off his pacemaker scars like a fascinated child.

Diana fusses round him, scolding. 'He had been at a function that night, and should have been in bed, not up until the wee small hours watching TV,' she says.

The spirit of Christmas: Sir Richard embodies the essence of St Nick in Miracle on 34th Street', endearing him to a new generation of fans

Gosh. It must have been a great film to keep him up so late. He rolls his eyes and tells me it was no film, but ' real-life drama and bloody tragedy at that'.

He was gripped by the London mayoral and council elections, in which his beloved Labour - he sits in the Lords as a Labour peer - didn't exactly do well.

'Enough to give anyone a bloody heart attack,' he concludes with a flounce.

One of the curious things about Lord Attenborough of Kingston upon Thames - and there are many - is that he waited so late in life to pen an autobiography.

I arrive at his house to interview him, wondering where to start. Even the notes I took while reading his book are daunting. 'Mountbatten. RAF. Mother Teresa/ flirt,' they go. 'Denzil / teeth. Bette Davis. Maggie T. "darling". Riding pillion with Steve McQueen. Noel Coward. Spitting Image. Ronald Reagan. Diana / tie. Chased out of South Africa. Earl Spencer - clapping at D. funeral. Queen / flag hoo-ha. Robert Downey Jr. / vodka. Tsunami.'

Flower of love: Lord and Lady Attenborough with the Attenborough Rose at Hampton Court Palace Flower Show

We start with a tour of his huge house on Richmond Green which he bought with Sheila 50 years ago. His two Oscars, six Baftas and six Golden Globes sit in his office.

There is a 1970s Rolls-Royce, with a personalised numberplate, in the driveway. The RAF uniform he wore for his wedding is still in the wardrobe.

We settle to talk in his home cinema, and he is everything you might expect Lord Attenborough to be. He calls me 'my dear' and often reaches over to pat my arm. At one point, I find we are holding hands, which is bizarre to me, but apparently quite normal to him. Diana rolls her eyes.

'The most embarrassing thing is travelling on a plane with him when someone has a baby,' she says. 'He cannot resist babies. He is always stroking them and I am thinking: "God, someone is going to think he is a paedophile." '

Little wonder the other Diana in his life - the late Princess of Wales - adored him. They met when she was an idealistic young bride, petrified at having to give a speech. Her husband asked Lord Attenborough for help. He was only too pleased to do so.

Interesting times: Sir Richard has met some fascinating icons during his life and career, including Nelson Mandela and his wife

'I found this incredibly shy young woman, who would not even meet my eye,' he recalls.

'I had to start by showing her how to talk to people - whole rooms of people.

'I taught her all the things I had learned as an actor: how you focus on one person, directing what you are saying at them. How to make eye contact. We did this for an hour every Wednesday.'

And so began a remarkable friendship, ending with him beside Elton John's piano at her funeral in Westminster Abbey, and using his own concentration methods to get through.

He confesses that he saw the unhappiness in Diana quite quickly, and provided a safe haven for her as her marriage crumbled around her. He and Sheila often had her to lunch.

'I know this will sound slightly egotistical, but I think she trusted us. We have never betrayed that trust. She really believed she could be totally indiscreet in one sense, because it would never go any further.'

Close friends: Lord Attenborough was very close to Princess Diana, helping her tackle her shyness and public speaking fears

He admits that Diana's frankness about her marital problems put him in a terrible position with his friend Prince Charles. Did he feel torn between the two?

'Momentarily, yes. He asked me to help her and, in turn, I became her confidante. There was a conflict there, yes.'

And 'Dear Dickie', as she called him, didn't always approve of how Diana was leading her life. 'We did have discussions about backing off from the media,' he says.

'I didn't think she should expose herself to the extent that she sometimes did, by gestures, or odd remarks. She had been created by it, to an extent, but it was destructive, and I told her she must be careful. I very much disapproved of her doing that interview (with Martin Bashir).

Yet he still misses Diana, and is fierce in his defence of her.

'She was no fool. Those who dismissed her as irrelevant and unimportant were the fools. They didn't realise her intuitive skill. I could not teach her that.

'She cared desperately about people. She worshipped her boys. I remember the first time I met them. I was leaving Kensington Palace and the boys were coming back from school and they got out of the car and they ran like little animals and threw themselves at her.'

In the days after her funeral, he found himself again torn between loyalty to the Royal Family and to Diana.

Must-watch TV: The Princess Diana/Martin Bashir interview was watched by more than 22m people, and proved a controversial move

He tells me he even sent a message to Balmoral - via his film producer friend John Brabourne, husband of Countess Mountbatten, who was involved in the negotiations - insisting that, in defiance of precedent, the Union flag be flown at half-mast over Buckingham Palace in tribute to Diana. It duly was.

Lord Attenborough generally gets his way, whether it is on a matter of national importance or on something more personal.

When I ask whether he learned anything surprising about himself while writing his autobiography, he says yes.

'I discovered I am very stubborn. And reasonably ruthless.' Diana adds 'and manipulative', to which he says, 'cheeky b****!' but ultimately agrees.

19 years in the making: Ben Kingsley as Gandhi in the hit 1982 film

'People have this image of me of being incredibly nice, but I'm not. I am ruthless. In terms of directing, I would move Heaven and Earth to get exactly what I wanted.

'That doesn't mean being dreadful to people or taking advantage. But there has been a certain single-mindedness in doing whatever it takes to get things the way I want them.'

His great cinematic triumph, Gandhi, took him 19 years to get made, and he tells me he came pretty close to bankrupting himself in the process.

'Sheila never knew until quite recently how hairy it got,' he reveals. 'But I would have given up anything and everything to have made that movie.'

There was a point at which he would have talked with unreserved pride about that single-mindedness. Today, he is not so sure. It is hard to tell what has made him so reflective.



In any case, he frets that the professional side of his life - acting, directing, sitting on endless boards, schooling princesses in public speaking - left little room for the one thing he always professed to hold dearest of all: family.

Praised: Sir Richard won Best Director and Best Picture Oscars for Gandhi

He and Sheila were blessed with three children: Michael, Jane and Charlotte, and seven grandchildren. There is a favourite picture of the family in his book, with them all gathered round him. He wears jeans and a denim shirt, and the hugest of his twinkly smiles.

How poignant it now seems after his elder daughter Jane - whom he often calls Ginny - and her daughter Lucy and mother-in-law Jane Holland were killed in the South-East Asia tsunami of 2004.

'Only in the past few years have I become aware that I put work ahead of my family, and that is something I bitterly regret. I can vividly remember making excuses for it, telling myself: "Oh well, I will do it next week, or there will be some other time I can see them."

'You always think there will be more time - until one day there isn't.

'I think that I fooled myself in a way. I always said that weekends were for family, but I didn't follow that through. We were very traditional. I insisted we ate together - lunch around the dining table, you know, but it was a formal affair, with servants and a proper structure.

'If work called, or if I had some important business to sort out, I would slot it in. I would tell myself: "Oh, I saw the children from 1pm till 2pm, I can dodge this afternoon and go and do whatever it was."'

Lord Attenborough's daughter Jane, far right, was killed in the 2004 Tsunami in Thailand

Yet he has found himself questioning how much he talked to his children, or even knew them.

'I wonder if I gave sufficient time to Jane's problem about this, or Jane's joy about that. Inevitably, I focus more on Jane. That is to my regret. I think of times when I could have spent more time with her, and I always said "next time", and then there isn't a next time.'

How ironic that the man who devoted so much to portraying human struggle against an epic backdrop should find his own life torn apart in such a tragic accident.

For the first time, Lord Attenborough found himself floundering emotionally. 'I have always lived in boxes,' he explains. 'I am able to cut myself off from anything and everything other than whatever I am concentrating on.

'It comes from training as an actor. No matter what is going on in your life, if your favourite aunt has kicked the bucket, say, you have to go on. I have always used this principle in everything. It has served me well. Or it did.'

Grief, however, consumed him. Tears - never far from the surface with Lord Attenborough - well in his eyes as he talks about 'the absolute worst period of my life'.

'I couldn't shut her out, you see,' he says at one point, 'I tried to, but she kept intruding. She still does. I will be in some meeting and a thought of Ginny will come to me, and it will upset me.'

In the aftermath of the tragedy, he and his wife took refuge in the solitude of their second home in Scotland. 'I am a gregarious character and company is not a problem, but there we could cry when we wanted and share our memories when we wanted. If we wanted to laugh about something funny Ginny had said or done and were shocked by that, that was fine, too.'

Lord Attenborough with granddaughter Lucy, who also died in the tsunami at the age of 14

Lord Attenborough is not religious, which has made coming to terms with the loss all the more difficult. Did he find himself wishing he were religious? 'Only to the extent that I want to know where they are,' he says. 'I remember one of the first times I really cried.

I said to Sheila: "But darling, where are they? They were here, they were part of our lives. They are part of our lives, but where are they?

'We didn't come up with an answer. We don't have an answer.'

He is crying now, and I apologise for upsetting him. He won't hear of it. 'I love it when people want to talk about her. I don't want to banish her. I don't want to not talk about her. I would much rather talk about her than not, even if I find it emotional sometimes.'

It's little wonder that his professional successes pale into insignificance in the face of all this. Lord Attenborough has always been the most passionate of film-makers, but he has never placed himself up there with the greats.

In his youth: Sir Richard Attenborough pictured as Ernest Tilley in 1959's jet Storm

'I am a good director, not a great director,' is his mantra. But, given that he has always put his work above everything, it matters to him that his work meant something.

He fills up again when I ask if Jane ever told him she was proud of him.

'Yes, she did. All the children do, which is all I really care about, actually. I would hate to embarrass them or for them to think what I was involved in was petty. I don't worry about what I do being regarded as ephemeral, but I don't want it to be petty. Anything but petty.'

Not old age nor bereavement nor the fact that he now needs two hearing aids has extinguished his optimism. He tells me he plays the Lottery every Saturday, and if he wins a few million he will make another film: one about Thomas Paine, the revolutionary who wrote The Rights Of Man, one of his heroes.

'We still need heroes,' he says. 'Perhaps now more than ever.'

And if he can die giving us another one, then he will die happy.

'That's how I would like it to end. One more film, and one that matters. If I could end on schedule, on budget and say: "Cut, it's a wrap" and - boom! - go. I would love that. By God, I would love that.'



