From Dewsbury to the stars

What does superstardom look like? Well, nothing at all. Like anonymity personified. The seriously big celebs, the ones for whom walking down the street is either irksome or potentially hazardous, develop a knack for blending into the background. When Patrick Stewart arrives to meet me at the Young Vic, I scarcely notice him. The jacket and scarf are regulation winter­wear. His blue jeans are unexceptional, and his natty trilby is hoiked downwards to conceal his face. Only when he lifts the brim and reaches out to shake my hand does the sonorous magnitude of Sir Patrick coalesce, like magic, before me.

He apologises for arriving 45 seconds late and sits down to sip coffee and eat a chocolate croissant. ‘Bingo,’ he begins. ‘Bingo is a lifelong obsession. Whenever I used to meet theatre producers, here or in the United States, where I lived for 17 years, they’d say, “Is there anything you want to do, Patrick?” And always, always, I would say, “Bingo”. And they’d say, “Bingo, yes. Bingo. Good. What’s that, then?” ’

Bingo is a historical drama by Edward Bond which shows the ageing Shakespeare being tempted by a property speculation which would enrich the local gentry, and himself, and severely impoverish the peasants. Stewart saw John Gielgud play the lead role in London in 1974. ‘The script, as the rare ones do, just stayed in my system.’ It’s a strange title for a Jacobean setting. ‘Yes, there’s a charming rumour that Edward called it Bingo because he wanted to see the word “Bingo” outside the Royal Court.’ Stewart campaigned hard to bring this production, which originated in Chichester in 2010, to the London stage. ‘That puts me under a certain responsibility to do it rather well.’

In person, as in the theatre, Stewart exudes a sort of rough-hewn majesty and a certain elusiveness.