I know many of you have been longing for a proper BLOKE as of late. I’m sorry that there wasn’t more Bloke News, but hopefully this Esquire cover will make up for it. Tom Hardy. Tattoos. Shirtless. Being declared “the greatest actor of his generation,” like he’s the second coming of Marlon Brando or something. Not bad for a bloke. Of course, much like Marlon Brando, Hardy tends to subvert the feminine and masculine stereotypes and have fun with his “macho man” image. Some highlights from the Esquire piece:
Hardy on Real Men: “I have always been frightened with men. To the point where I couldn’t go into a gym because of the testosterone and I felt weak. I don’t feel very manly. I don’t feel rugged and strong and capable in real life, not how I imagine a man ought to be. So I seek it, to mimic it and maybe understand it, or maybe to draw it into my own reality. People who are scary, they terrify me, but I can imitate them. I’m not a fighter. I’m a petit little bourgeois boy from London. I don’t fight, I mimic.”
His problem: “I don’t like me very much. Never have.” Put another way: “I was a sensitive. I didn’t want to be a sensitive.”
Being in recovery from drug & alcohol abuse: “I was told very clearly, ‘You go down that road, Tom, you won’t come back. That’s it. All you need to know. And that message stayed with me very clearly for the rest of my days. The beginning, really, of a new life. I couldn’t value life until I risked losing something worth more to me than my behavior. I’m f–king lucky to be here, to be honest. Any near-death experience—if you’re lucky enough to f–king realize that it is one—is going to leave an indelible mark on you. And then you add shame and guilt and fear into that, it’s a recipe for awareness if you have the ability to become aware from it. And good things can come back into your life.”
Not wanting the movie star thing: “Don’t get me wrong, there is part of me that wants to win an Oscar and wants to be on the front cover of a magazine and all that kind of stuff, but there’s also a part of me that really doesn’t. I’m not the guy you need—I’m not a role model. Don’t look too deep, because after you scratch the surface you are going to find out that I’m normal and I’ve got skeletons in my closet. But my intentions are good, and if you want to talk to me about the work, or if you want to work with me on something, then I hope you find that I’m a reliable team player. But you have to be as open and honest about it as I am, because you will be f–king judged, as I’ve been.”
His Esquire cover: “Who the f–k is this guy with the crooked teeth and the beard? He’s f–king ugly. Nobody buys a magazine with a beard on the front. So I ain’t shaving my beard for you. To shave my beard off would be to cut my f–king nuts off. You know what I mean? And give them to you to sell—to prove that I am a man. But without them, I am no longer. You sold them! And I am now a lie. Why would I do that? Oh, I’m a serious actor. Yes, I am. I cut my beard off, how do I look?”
On Charlize Theron: “I think she’s f–king awesome. I think she’s incredible. I think she’s one of the most talented actresses of our generation.”
Charlotte Riley is described as his “WIFE”: Shortly after we arrived, so did Hardy’s wife, Charlotte Riley, along with their two dogs, both of which Hardy found wandering the streets when he was filming in the United States and had to bring home…Wearing a white jersey and a pair of jeans, she shook my hand and said, “Sorry our home is such a s–thole.” “Charlie’s very special,” Hardy said.
Good God, there’s a lot of BLOKE in that piece. I will only recommend that the true Hardy-loonies read it because Tom exhausted me. It’s not as if he’s crazy, and it’s not as if he’s ridiculously self-absorbed (he’s as self-absorbed as the next actor), it’s just… he’s a talker. He’s a bullsh—ter. He’s a teller of tale tales. He likes to make grand pronouncements about life and love and the lessons he’s learned. He also uses the C-bomb word like fifty times within the interview and he refers to himself multiple times as a “petit bourgeois pain in the ass.” CLASSY BLOKE.
Photos courtesy of Esquire.
