Insists the story came to its natural end....
Interview: Michael Urie, comedian
Published Date: 03 August 2010
EVERY night?" says Michael Urie, eyes widening.
He smiles. "Wow." Michael Urie's smile is massive. A little like a beautiful, depilated version of Fozzy Bear, his head seems almost to be dissected by it. And he is beautiful, classically beautiful. In earlier times he would have had Michelangelo ordering up another block of marble and sharpening his chisel, or Caravaggio priming his canvas and reaching for his oils. In these times, he is currently famed internationally as Marc, part wasp, part peacock and personal assistant to Vanessa Williams' uber-bitch Wilhelmina Slater in the hit US comedy Ugly Betty. Now he is coming to the Edinburgh Fringe in Celebrity Autobiography, a show which is already a hit in the States. And, yes, he is playing every night.
The show does just what is says on the lid: hilariously appalling chunks from the autobiographies of celebrities too egotistical to self-edit and too powerful for anyone else to try to edit for them are read by a cast of actors and comics for the entertainment of packed audiences and delighted critics.Urie has been something of a regular in the show and so Nick Brooke, its UK producer, got both him and George Wendt to headline its UK debut in Edinburgh. The man with the onscreen wardrobe so sharp it could dice neeps was already coming to the UK, making Decoy Bride, a film starring David Tennant and Kelly Macdonald ("they are so cute... I don't know which of them I love more !" ). Filming has been in Glasgow, which he adores; Dumfries, where he enjoyed his first full Scottish breakfast ("I was off salt for a week... I got my full quota in that one breakfast"), and the Isle of Man where, he sighs, "I spent a year, one week".
Time off camera in Scotland has been used in expanding his understanding of local culture. I ask how he got to grips with the local cuisine - given that he comes from the land that gave us the Atkins Diet and Food Intolerance as a religion. Urie - who has the hips of a matador and the complexion of a Prom Queen (no pun intended) - says he has always loved fried food and enjoyed a dietary regime involving fish suppers, washed down with Magners. He has also, along with most of the crew of the movie, been ejected from a Glasgow pub. "So, Glasgow," he tweeted that night, "your pubs close at midnight?" That was, to be fair, his only disappointment.
Not that I want to make him sound like some sort of dipsomaniac - although he has been enjoying the UK's somewhat more "relaxed" attitude to alcohol. "You have no guilt about drinking here!" he says, with something approaching awe. "In the US you have to justify every drink you have...you know, 'well, I can have one more because I don't have to be up until lunchtime tomorrow.' When I arrived, I was like," (he covers an imaginary drink with a hand and curls his shoulder away from me), "omigod, the producer is seeing me drink !"
One gathers that has worn off - although as we sip drinks in the new Ivy Club (a place wherein you feel yourself growing more glamorous and influential by osmosis simply by being there) his is water. Today is Big Press Day. His eyes gleam as we peruse the menu. "I love pies!" he cries, a million light years away from Marc, who sees Botox as a food group. As he demolishes the Ivy Club's Pie of the Day, we talk theatre. Nothing so far had been as expected about this delightful man. But a deep and abiding passion for theatre, I did assume, from an award-winning theatre graduate of the Julliard School. He has only been in London a couple of days and has already seen Legally Blonde ("fun"), La Bete ("Mark Rylance is a genius") and Aspects Of Love ("it is just wonderful").
As a boy he wanted to be a film director (the dream is not over yet). "Favourite film?" I demand, expecting Jarman's Sebastiane and Gypsy at least. No. Jurassic Park, ET and Billy Elliot. Who would have guessed? As a boy he used to spend hours "directing" highly evolved scenarios involving an extensive cast of action figures and Jurassic Park merchandising.
We talk Sondheim and gasp together at the glorious thought of Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch together on Broadway in A Little Night Music. Turns out Bernadette and Michael are great friends. All his life, it seems, Michael was a devoted fan. As a student, he saw her in Annie Get Your Gun on Broadway, "second-acting" it night after night for the whole run. When the Ugly Betty producers were looking to cast the part of publisher Jodie Papadakis, Urie leapt in to suggest Bernadette. She got the part, he got a new best friend and they both enjoyed an onscreen flirtation.
Unlikely, I know, for a character who makes Louis Walsh look like Wayne Rooney but Marc was always defying expectations: written originally to last just one episode, he became one of the show's core characters, gaining surprising dimensions with every series, from his unlikely choice of boyfriend through his painful childhood to his sweet friendship with Betty's young nephew. He is incredibly sad that the series has finished. "I miss the people so much," he says, stirring an impressive amount of sugar into fully caffeinated coffee. "It's like losing your family."
Talk of an Ugly Betty movie has put the fan forums in a frenzy. "America is really keen, but..." he shrugs, "I really don't see it happening. The story sort of came to its natural end." One of the toughest things, post "Mode", was the peremptory withdrawal of "theme park privileges". Michael loves his rollercoasters and, while Ugly Betty was in production, the entire cast had free VIP access to Disneyland.
Unlikely, I know, for a character who makes Louis Walsh look like Wayne Rooney but Marc was always defying expectations: written originally to last just one episode, he became one of the show's core characters, gaining surprising dimensions with every series, from his unlikely choice of boyfriend through his painful childhood to his sweet friendship with Betty's young nephew. He is incredibly sad that the series has finished. "I miss the people so much," he says, stirring an impressive amount of sugar into fully caffeinated coffee. "It's like losing your family."
Talk of an Ugly Betty movie has put the fan forums in a frenzy. "America is really keen, but..." he shrugs, "I really don't see it happening. The story sort of came to its natural end." One of the toughest things, post "Mode", was the peremptory withdrawal of "theme park privileges". Michael loves his rollercoasters and, while Ugly Betty was in production, the entire cast had free VIP access to Disneyland.
"The day after we were canned I called our contact at Disney and said, ‘Do I still get to go to Disneyland?' No. But she got me in one last time." He sighs. "Are there theme parks in Scotland ?"
After Betty, Urie thought he might have been inundated with "comedy gay boy" offers. Not yet. So he has gone back to theatre. As a matter of fact he was already appearing off-Broadway in The Temperamentals, a powerful piece about 1950s gay activists, when the series ended. And there is a proposed production of How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying (Urie's all-time favourite musical) on Broadway which has his name on it. Along with Daniel Radcliffe and David Hyde-Pierce. He is not remotely worried that Marc might have type cast him forever. "People will forget. It's not like it was Friends... or Frasier," he says, overly modestly for my money.
With a view to his Edinburgh experience he reveals he has been taking "Scottish" lessons from David Tennant. "Edinbughugh," he coughs proudly, in the style made famous by Taggart. He is, he reveals, part Scots by descent, although he has no idea where from. More recently, Urie is Texas born, although you'd never know it from his accent.
Being here, he says, is bringing back a little bit of a Southern drawl, in an attempt to avoid assimilation. Any other kind of "assimilation" is, I should tell you, not on the cards either, as the Gods Of The Fringe have smiled upon Michael and decreed that his boyfriend is involved in an all-male production of The Bacchae, so they get a month together at the Centre of the Universe in August.
There is another interview to be done, and he darts out to the tiny rooftop garden. Interview over, he returns, wide-eyed with excitement and demanding confirmation. Yes, the figure huddled in the corner, looking like Bob Geldof's dad, was indeed Sir Tom Stoppard. Michael's day is made.
The final line-up of autobiographies to be read in Edinburgh hasn't been made. Urie is particularly sad that no one here knows who Vanna White is, and so the chapter involving Vanna, an inept lover, her genitalia and a magnifying glass will not be read. There must be something beyond appalling in some of Katie Price's tat, I suggest. "Who?" he enquires. You see? You just have to love this guy.
After Betty, Urie thought he might have been inundated with "comedy gay boy" offers. Not yet. So he has gone back to theatre. As a matter of fact he was already appearing off-Broadway in The Temperamentals, a powerful piece about 1950s gay activists, when the series ended. And there is a proposed production of How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying (Urie's all-time favourite musical) on Broadway which has his name on it. Along with Daniel Radcliffe and David Hyde-Pierce. He is not remotely worried that Marc might have type cast him forever. "People will forget. It's not like it was Friends... or Frasier," he says, overly modestly for my money.
With a view to his Edinburgh experience he reveals he has been taking "Scottish" lessons from David Tennant. "Edinbughugh," he coughs proudly, in the style made famous by Taggart. He is, he reveals, part Scots by descent, although he has no idea where from. More recently, Urie is Texas born, although you'd never know it from his accent.
Being here, he says, is bringing back a little bit of a Southern drawl, in an attempt to avoid assimilation. Any other kind of "assimilation" is, I should tell you, not on the cards either, as the Gods Of The Fringe have smiled upon Michael and decreed that his boyfriend is involved in an all-male production of The Bacchae, so they get a month together at the Centre of the Universe in August.
There is another interview to be done, and he darts out to the tiny rooftop garden. Interview over, he returns, wide-eyed with excitement and demanding confirmation. Yes, the figure huddled in the corner, looking like Bob Geldof's dad, was indeed Sir Tom Stoppard. Michael's day is made.
The final line-up of autobiographies to be read in Edinburgh hasn't been made. Urie is particularly sad that no one here knows who Vanna White is, and so the chapter involving Vanna, an inept lover, her genitalia and a magnifying glass will not be read. There must be something beyond appalling in some of Katie Price's tat, I suggest. "Who?" he enquires. You see? You just have to love this guy.
I'm a bit surprised when it said in the article 'more recently, Urie is Texas born'.... recently? Erm, hate to nitpick here but he is from Dallas and was born there in 1980, 30 years ago.Therefore, it's not as if it is recent.
But other than that, this is a very interesting interview by The Scotsman. Definitely worth a read.:-)
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