Tony Curtis, last of the great Lotharios


Tony Curtis comes towards me in a wheelchair, wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and very short white shorts. “Good to meet you,” he says. He takes my hand, brushes it with his lips and almost imperceptibly looks me up and down. At 83, despite baldness and a paunch, the legendary Hollywood Lothario still knows how to turn on the charm. He apologises for the wheelchair, which he needs following a bout of pneumonia in 2006 that has inexplicably affected his legs. “I can walk, just not very well.”

We’re in his living room in Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas. It’s a nondescript suburban house with wall-to-wall windows overlooking a golf course and the Nevada desert, with the skyline of the Strip in the distance. Five tiny dogs yap at our feet. Jillie, his wife of 10 years, a statuesque blonde 46 years his junior, is at the kitchen counter on her computer. Huge canvases are propped up against every surface: enormous reclining nudes, still lifes of flowers, figurative but modern. “Are these all yours?” I ask. “Yes,” he says, proudly. “Let’s go to my studio.” He even makes that sound suggestive.

(Times Online UK)


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