It would be interesting if Caine could answer the question. Who is he really or indeed mainly? When he received his knighthood in 2000, the Queen dubbed him Sir Maurice Micklewhite. ‘I always kept my real name. When I go home, I leave Michael Caine the film star with the costumes, the wigs and the props in the studio.’ (Is this true? Does Shakira address him as Maurice? Does Parky when they are in the green room? ) And yet there we have it — he sees himself not as an actor, but as a film star, with all the ephemerality and lack of substance this implies. Hence, my favourite Caine movie is Sleuth, with Laurence Olivier. Whatever the plot of the film may be about, the joy for the audience is in witnessing this clash or duel of acting styles. Olivier’s character is audacious, crafty, lethal; so is Olivier. When he reduces Caine’s Milo Tindle to a nervous wreck it is Caine himself crying these big hot sticky tears, Olivier who has won. ‘When he’s not at your feet,’ said Caine, ‘he’s at your throat.’ Sleuth is one of the very few films where Caine is compelled to respond and react to another person in a scene, without recourse to hectoring and sullenness. But then it was back to the killer bees.

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