Amanda is nobody's fool

Amanda Donohoe is fast becoming one of the most talked about actresses in Hollywood

11 April 2012

Of all the British actresses seduced by the lure of Hollywood, Amanda Donohoe seemed more likely than most to realise those twin promises of untold riches and fame.

With her stunning, sultry looks and intelligent, nononsense attitude - and not a little talent - she wasted no time in becoming one of the most talkedabout actresses in America.

With a leading role in one of the highest-rating TV dramas of the Nineties, LA Law - a controversial lesbian role at that - she catapulted herself into the Hollywood stratosphere, moved into a sprawling Spanish-style villa, drove around in a black Jeep and became a permanent fixture in the gossip columns.

The woman sitting opposite me today in a fairly nondescript café in Chalk Farm laughs broadly when I mention how expertly she "played the Hollywood game". Why, I ask, when she seemed to have precisely what she wanted, did she spend the next decade seemingly dismantling the very image she so artfully constructed for herself ?

"I didn't realise that half the job in LA is making appearances. You have to kiss ass. I was supposed to be soft and fluffy, and feminine," she sighs, lighting the first of many Marlboro Lights. "But there I was, this socialist, anarchistic feminist. What was I doing in Hollywood? How did I ever expect to get on? It wasn't that I didn't want to play the game. I had no idea what the game even was."

That blunt honesty, I suspect, is one of the reasons Donohoe isn't rubbing shoulders with the A-list acting elite. Hollywood starlets, even if they are a more mature 41, simply aren't meant to be this indiscreet. It's all I can do not to blush when, having railed against the Hollywood machine and the casting couch, she's suddenly waxing lyrical about great sex.

"I can see why people go for that sudden, lust-filled shag with a stranger against a wall," she smiles, drawing deeply on her cigarette. "Fine, if that's what you want. Personally, I've only ever had consensual sex, mainly sober. Surely great sex is something you want to remember, you don't want to be too pissed; if you're lucky enough to get it, bloody well remember it."

She may have starred in films including Castaway, won a Golden Globe in LA Law, and taken her clothes off in the West End, succeeding Jerry Hall in The Graduate as Mrs Robinson, but Donohoe is nothing if not down-to-earth.

Her forthright, not-mincingherwords style may get a better reception this side of the Atlantic. She thinks so, too, which is why, after nearly two decades abroad, she has left Los Angeles and returned permanently to her Hampstead home.

Perhaps that's the most effective way of resurrecting a career she seemed to rather casually discard.

With a wry smile, she says: "I'm sure my attitude has hurt me in Hollywood. I went there in 1989 and got LA Law very quickly. I didn't have to fight for it. It was sheer luck, being in the right place at the right time. But I suppose I could have used it to my advantage so much more.

"Having lived through being famous, then not being quite so famous, the reason I stopped courting publicity was that I found it intrusive," she explains. "I didn't enjoy it; it didn't enhance my personal life in any way. I like being slightly more anonymous."

Thus, she spurned the fluffy bimbo roles in big-budget films which came pouring in following her exit from LA Law, opting to produce her own TV films, many of them forgettable. "I didn't realise that the stopwatch was on. There was this ludicrous idea that one minute you're hot, another minute you're cold. It happens so fast.

"But in the UK you get the opportunity to work with living legends, for whom you have enormous respect, rather than doing some film that you look at and think, 'This is utter crap,'" she says.

"I mean, X-Men 2! I'd rather tear off my own head! A couple of my mates were in it and they earned absolute fortunes. So, go for it, by all means ... if you can stand the boredom!"

And yet there is not a trace of sour grapes in her voice as she dissects her failure to make the A-list. As she puffs on her fags, cheerfully chatting about the absurdities of her profession, Donohoe is fantastic company.

Just back from a break in Barbados, she looks slim in skin-tight jeans and a white vest, and ridiculously healthy (the result, perhaps, of the vitamin supplements lying next to the cigarettes in her handbag). Dinner with her would be a riot. But I can see why Hollywood - a town that does not respond well to women who question its basic assumptions - might find her hard to handle.

"At first the premieres and parties are enjoyable," she muses. "But after a while, it becomes a job. Now, I'd rather stay at home with my pyjamas on. I don't mean to sound jaded, but after 20 years of traipsing up the red carpet it's not that fascinating.

"Parents should tell their daughters, 'You don't want to be famous, baby. You wanna be rich'. The worst thing of all is to be famous and not rich. Then you are hounded and you have no protection. You have no fast car to whisk you away, no bodyguards to tell people to piss off."

I suggest a boyfriend could always fulfil that function. Although she has dated a string of eligible men, including the documentary film-maker Nick Broomfield, she is currently single and has dismissed marriage and children, saying: "I'm far too selfish to share my life. I don't want to look after someone, worry where they are or clear up after them. It's not something I'm going to do."

SHE swears that she likes the single life. "I'm a terrible loner. Men either embrace that, or they're a bit frightened by it. I can happily go on holiday on my own. I don't equate being alone with being lonely; there are so many books to read and things to do."

Donohoe's outspokenness is something you'd probably expect from a woman who has Russian and Irish heritage, even if there is a helping of sensible Swiss in there as well. The daughter of two north London antique dealers, she trained at the

Central School of Drama, but acquired her love for the movies in London's arthouse cinemas. "I was into good movies, independent film, really interesting, odd stuff," she enthuses. "If anyone now thinks that watching Big Brother or The Salon on TV can even come close to the wonder and fascination of Ken Russell, Nic Roeg and Franco Zeffirelli, then I think they've missed out on so much."

As she enters her forties, Donohoe is keeping afloat and making a living at an age when options for actresses are harder to find. So the chance of starring in Murder City, one of the reason she's back in Britain, was far too good to turn down.

It's her first British TV series, a slick and intelligent attempt to tap into the cool-cop genre. And, she has the lead role. "It's a stonking great part for a woman, and how often do you get that, especially as you get older?" she asks. "Otherwise you're relegated to ... well, to what? Nobody's making films about women over 35. Calendar Girls was an exception to the rules."

Donohoe plays Detective Inspector Susan Alembic, the boss to Kris Marshall's kooky, obsessive detective sergeant Luke Stone in the six-part series, which took five months to film. "I went to work, went home, went to bed, got up, relentlessly," she says. "Now, the idea of being able to walk down the street, go to a café and read a paper in peace is a huge joy."

Of course, if it is a success, it'll be much harder for her to remain unhassled in cafés. Despite her best efforts, Amanda Donohoe might just become a star - all over again.

Murder City, Thursday, ITV1 at 9pm.

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