He quit long ago, but it's still what everybody wants to know about him.
"I wouldn't have missed one drop of alcohol that I drank," he told Us magazine in 1989. There he was too, as legions of stories go, stewed out of his mind on the London stage and unable even to stand straight up, leaning over a bit while he sprayed saliva well into the 10th row, but still brilliant, somehow, even brilliantly bad, world weary and booze weary, but out there and dangerous as he stole the show, dangling on the edge of control and reason, giving himself up totally with bravura performances, unguarded and raw. There he was in white robes in "Lawrence of Arabia," standing on top of the train. Like Brando, the highs have been high and the lows fascinating. You won't let that happen to you, will you?
Tied a piece of red wool on a sea gull's leg and within about two minutes it was pecked to death by the other sea gulls." "Tie a piece of wool on a sea gull's leg," he said. "You're one of the long line of people," he went on, "who ask me this as though I know the answer. "Mediocrity rules," he said, shrugging one of those wry, superb, one-inch shrugs. He has a feeling of hardly inhabiting his body and, at the same time, being much much too big for it. In life, he is grander, brighter, smoother, and with so much personality, tortured and refined and utterly engaging - with so much Peter O'Tooleness - that it leaks out through his pores, his every breath, out to his short dry gray hair, to his corduroy vest and jacket, to the pale green lace-up boating shoes at the end of his elegant stork legs. In life, Peter O'Toole even at 60 seems much larger than on screen or stage. His face just existed, hanging there, glorious, the shroud of Turin taking over the dead air of the hotel room.Īnother Gauloise was slowly cranked into the end of a black cigarette holder. He uttered one lovely turn of phrase after another.
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