His appearances on Whose Line Is It Anyway? made him a major comedy and improv star in the 90s, but then his life fell apart. He talks about love, addiction, bipolar disorder and a long-buried secret
When I moved to London in 1990, I knew that, in order to fit in at school, I had to educate myself about the important British celebrities. While my classmates helped me with regards to the canon – Noel Edmonds, Phillip Schofield, Cilla Black – there was one I found all on my own. Tony Slattery quickly became a source of fascination to me. He was such a ubiquitous presence on television (endless quiz shows and commercials), in theatre (Me and My Girl, Neville’s Island, which got him an Olivier nomination) and film (The Crying Game, Carry on Columbus, Peter’s Friends) that Private Eye ran a cartoon of him in which his answer machine message was, “Yes, I’ll do it!” But, like most people, I discovered him on Whose Line Is It Anyway?, the endearingly low-fi Channel 4 improv show that ran from 1988 to 1999.
Pretty much everyone on that show was great – Josie Lawrence, Mike McShane, Ryan Stiles and, of course, Richard-Vranch-on-the-piano. But Slattery seemed to be in a different orbit: a gifted actor and strikingly handsome, he vibrated with creativity and a barely suppressed inner darkness. You could never be sure how his skits would go, but you knew they would have a jittery brilliance to them, with a leftfield lyrical twist or an emotional gut-punch. With his manic energy, he reminded me of Robin Williams, and it was clear that if he learned how to channel his talent there would be no stopping him. And even if he didn’t, well, he would still be exciting to watch. But I was wrong. What happened to Slattery was not exciting. It was sad.
Continue reading...from Culture | The Guardian http://bit.ly/2GOP9FI
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