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Warren Beatty Filmography
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Henry Warren Beaty (born March 30 1937 in Richmond, Virginia), now known as
Warren Beatty, is an American actor, producer, screenwriter, and director. He long had a reputation as a womanizer and playboy, but this reputation seems to have faded since his 1992 marriage. The Academy Awards honored him with the Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award in 2000, while in 2004 he received the Kennedy Center Honor.
Beatty got his start in film under
Elia Kazan's direction and opposite
Natalie Wood in Splendor in the Grass (1961), though he had previous television experience in The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis (1959). At age 30 he achieved critical acclaim as producer and star of Bonnie and Clyde (1967), which was nominated for 10 Academy Awards.
Subsequent Beatty films include McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971), The Parallax View (1974), Shampoo (1975), and Heaven Can Wait (1978). His historical epic set at the start of World War I, Reds (1981), won Academy Awards for Best Director, Best Cinematography, and Best Actress in a Supporting Role while losing Best Picture to Chariots of Fire
. It was nominated for eight other Oscars and joined a handful of films to win Best Director but not Best Picture. Other critically acclaimed works include Bugsy (1991) and Bulworth (1998).
Beatty's career has been marked by a series of well-publicized romances, including
Reds co-star
Diane Keaton and pop-star
Madonna. He settled down in his fifties, marrying
Annette Bening, his co-star in the gangster film
Bugsy, in 1992. They have four children together: Kathlyn (b. 1992), Benjamin (b. 1994), Isabel (b. 1997) and Ella Corinne (b. April 8, 2000).Beatty is the younger brother of actress and writer
Shirley MacLaine.
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EuropeMiranda Sawyer interviews Christopher Ciccone
'I was born my mother's son, but I will die my sister's brother." So says Christopher Ciccone in his book Life With My Sister Madonna. It's an unauthorised biography, one that Madonna is reportedly unhappy about; it came out last summer and was yet another glitch in a tricky year for the Queen of Pop. She's a trouper and her career has been through worse patches. But despite the fact that her Sticky and Sweet tour was a hit (the highest-grossing tour of the year) and she was inducted into America's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, it's the other stuff that we, and she, will remember about Madonna's 2008. "2008? Well, she turned 50, there was the divorce with Guy, the stuff with her kids and there was my book. All these things that she has no control over came crashing down at the same moment. And my sister," says Christopher, twisting his mouth, "is big on control."We are in Los Angeles, at the home of a brother of a megastar. Christopher's apartment is in West Hollywood, a one-bedroom joint. It's surprisingly tiny and feels smaller: stuffed like a junk shop with heavy, antique furniture, piled up art books, umpteen family photographs and paintings, many done by Christopher. The artist is ill in bed, struck down by a stomach complaint the night before our interview is scheduled. So I'm shown around by Scott, one of his friends, who's over from Britain trying to launch himself as a presenter/actor. Scott, a very sweet chap, talks me through all of Christopher's work, including a series of photographs of men's behinds, which Scott thinks "predates that Dazed & Confused vibe that's everywhere now". I'm not sure - they just look like snapshots of bottoms to me, though I do like his colourful, impressionistic paintings. Anyway, I'm more interested in the family pics. Here's a young Madonna cuddling baby sister Melanie; Madonna and Christopher looking minxy and fun; a formal portrait of their mother, also called Madonna, who died when they were very young. Some of these photos appear in Christopher's book; he tells me his sister "went crazy" at their dad for giving permission for them to be printed.Christopher, two years younger than his famous sibling, has not been in regular contact with Madonna for some time now. The last time he saw her, in 2006, she sent tickets for her Confessions show in Miami and made a point of dedicating a song to him: "It was quite a nice moment," he says now, "but it was my sister's way of publicly showing how kind she is to her family. It was calculated." They haven't spoken properly since. She didn't know he'd written his book; by the time she got wind of it, it was printed and only three weeks from being launched. She emailed Christopher just two words: "Call me." But he didn't.Christopher receives me atop his bed, in pyjamas and striped silk gown, reclining on two enormous Versace pillows. A small picture of Frida Kahlo is positioned so he can see it, for strength, I suppose. I interviewed Madonna a few years ago and Christopher resembles her: heart-shaped face, strong eyebrows, beautiful, curly-lashed eyes. He also shares her bluntness though lacks her charm. This might be because he's ill; he's definitely uncomfortable, cutting our chat short and generally seeming tense, especially when Madonna is discussed. What an irony! You write a book about your sister to give yourself a separate identity. Then people interview you about it and, naturally, only talk about her. Which is what I do. What does she think of his book?"She probably thinks of it as a desperate attempt for attention and money," says Christopher, his voice a mellifluous tenor that seems to rumble up from his toes. "And, ultimately, a betrayal. I think of it as a thesaurus - it's different ways of defining people and myself - and also as another piece of art. "Other than that, there are two factions. People who hate me because they think I've betrayed their icon. And then the people who hate me because they think I haven't betrayed her enough. The other day, I was walking through a gay bar and I heard this guy whisper, 'Traitor!' It was pretty funny." As adults, the pair were very close, much the tightest of the eight Ciccone brothers and sisters. They were born and brought up in Detroit, Michigan; Madonna the oldest girl, Christopher the second youngest boy, fifth-born. Their dad Sylvio, known as Tony, married Joan, the family housekeeper, after his first wife died, at 30, of breast cancer. Joan ran a strict household, trying to keep all the kids in order, a hard task, especially as the six older ones weren't hers. Madonna's desire for fame and love is usually traced back to the loss of her mother when she was five. However, Christopher thinks that Joan hasn't got her dues. He says that as she gets older, Madonna has taken on much of their stepmother's sergeant-major tendencies, "insisting that everything has to be done her way, according to her timetable and that life must be lived by her rules". When Madonna left home and started out in pop, in the Borderline-Lucky Star-Holiday mid-80s, Christopher was one of the two male dancers behind her. He performed at her early club dates. When she graduated to proper tours, he was her dresser. In the book, he seems embarrassed about this job, refusing to tell any of his friends. When I ask why, he says: "Well, technically, it was beneath me. I did it because she needed me, but it bred resentment. Not many people would have been able to deal with her stuff [she shouted at him a lot]." You could see this as the fatal flaw in their relationship, for Christopher; he hated being subservient to his sister, but liked being needed by her and, like everyone else around her, enjoyed the perks. Anyway, Christopher stopped being Madonna's dresser when he progressed to becoming director of her live shows, Blond Ambition and the Girlie Show, both of which were dazzling successes. He was also in charge of the interior decoration of all of her houses; plus, on and off, he lived with her, right through the Sean Penn marriage and the Warren Beatty interlude. For many years, Madonna's life was his life. Rupert Everett wrote in his autobiography: "To know Madonna at all, you had to know Christopher. The one was incomprehensible without the other."So how come they fell out? What happened? She dropped him. In 2001, Madonna appointed a different director - choreographer Jamie King - for her Drowned World tour and didn't tell Christopher. Around the same time, she married Guy Ritchie, who nitpicked about her brother's interior work. And Christopher got into what he calls "partying", meaning going out and taking cocaine, a big no-no for Madonna. "From the moment I found out that I wasn't doing Drowned World, to her and Guy's wedding, everything became a bit of a blur, a dark, fairly negative period of time for me. You know, she was my family. I wasn't close to my other brothers and sisters, I moved out when I was 18 and moved to New York so... she was my family. Plus I'd come out of a 10-year relationship straight after the Girlie Show. So losing that, losing her - I was kind of out there for the first time in 15 years by myself." His eyebrows furrow, he clasps his hands over his stomach.For his part, Christopher began pulling away too. He was upset with Madonna for dispensing with his services; he disliked Guy Ritchie, who he thinks is homophobic (Christopher is gay); and, as he no longer worked with his sister, he realised he had to establish himself as a separate entity. He continued with his interiors, he directed pop videos, he designed T-shirts. But nothing hit the heights of what he'd achieved before.So he wrote his book, which reached number two in the New York Times non-fiction bestseller list and number one in the equialent UK list despite Christopher not doing many promotional interviews. Rumour has it that Madonna's people lent hard on US magazines and TV shows in order to curtail his press. To be honest, though, there's not much in the book for her to worry about. She goes to bed at 11pm every night! She gave Christopher his first ecstasy tablet! She wouldn't pay for her sister Paula to come to her wedding! I suppose the very fact that he wrote it at all is enough to drive her bananas. Christopher toyed with writing his story for years, but he knew he was still angry with Madonna and thought it would be unfair. It was only when he started therapy and (oh no!) studying kabbalah that he felt he could "look back on our work together and be proud of it and not hate her for dragging me through this". What's interesting about that is that it was Madonna who strong-armed him into both. The therapy began because she was trying to force him into rehab for cocaine: instead, Christopher went to a doctor, who established that he was just a recreational user and recommended therapy. Madonna then sent a list of demands to Christopher's therapist, which says quite a lot. And she pressurised him into attending kabbalah meetings by refusing to pay him money she owed for his interior work unless he went along.At kabbalah, he became friendly with Demi Moore, who has since dropped him, too. Of her - and of Madonna - Christopher says grumpily: "A certain kind of diva carries a gay man around like a handbag, like an accessory. And then once they find the right straight guy, they don't need a male companion any more." He quite liked kabbalah, though. "There are great things about it, but the people who run it are not immune to the Hollywood celebrity thing. They'd like to think they are, but they treat celebrities better. When Britney started running around the centre, I was like, 'OK, time for me to go'."Christopher is naturally acerbic and there are some good stories in the book, with funny "partying" cameos from Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, Donatella Versace and Courtney Love. He describes how Sean Penn makes him do a blood brother pact - cutting their palms and rubbing them together - and then, years later, rushes across at a party to ask Christopher if he has Aids. And there's a Miami evening where several people, including David Geffen, all play truth or dare. Every person, apart from Christopher, vows that if they could have sex with anyone in the room, it would be with Madonna. Even David Geffen, who likes men! "No, it didn't make me laugh," says Christopher sharply. "It made me feel ill."His mood is darkening; he says we'll have to stop soon. So I ask him about his current projects. He's just finished some interior decoration work in Miami, is involved in a hotel project in Mexico City and it looks like he'll be directing a low-budget movie called Twist: "Sex, drugs and murder in Orange County," he smiles. These days, Christopher is just another LA hustler, talking up deals, trading on past glories, pitching for the future. There's nothing wrong with that - it's how the city works. But it must be hard when you've previously been whisked to the top tables, VIP'd at the best parties. Even - or especially - when you know it's only because of your more famous sibling. Maybe he should have pursued a career away from his sister, as the other Ciccones did. "Yes, but she needed me, and I wanted to do it," he says. "Also, even though my brothers and sisters lead very regular lives, that still isn't easy for them. Because first, you compare yourself with Madonna and her success, and because you can't get there, you consider yourself some kind of a failure. And then there's the expectations of other people who know you're Madonna's brother, so why aren't you rich and famous? "The life that she's chosen has had unintended consequences on all of our lives. And it's not as if she'd ever acknowledge that. Even with me, involved with her for 25 years... Madonna isn't big on recognising other people for their contribution." It's clear that Madonna's sudden dropping of Christopher is not unusual for her, though it seems crueller as he is her brother. She's done it with other collaborators, musical or managerial. In fact, her only long-term US employee is press officer Liz Rosenberg and even she might have blown it with her recent leaking of how much Madonna is paying Guy in the divorce settlement. A couple of weeks ago, Rosenberg gave different numbers to different publications. A joint release from Ritchie and Madonna was issued within a day, saying that all the figures were inaccurate. Oops. Christopher is generous about the divorce, despite his feelings about Ritchie: "As much as I dislike Guy and as much as he may dislike me, I would never wish for the end of their marriage. Though, without getting into too much detail, Guy isn't quite the gentleman I thought he was trying to be. There are some myths running around about this amicable divorce stuff. It's not quite as sweet and clear-cut and dried..." He won't elaborate, but later on says this: "Madonna isn't a cheapskate, she's very practical and pragmatic. However, like most people she has a tendency to give her money away with strings attached. She gets the best bang for her buck."What about Christopher? Has he got the best bang for his buck? He won't say how much he was paid for his book, but it must have been good money. Was it worth it? By writing about Madonna, he's burnt umpteen bridges. "Oh yeah. It's a fine line to write a book of this nature," he says. "You can absolutely destroy your career. But I think because it's not a vicious book, then people are reading it, it's worthwhile. And more importantly, I didn't tear our family apart."Do you miss her?"I miss working with her, on her tours and in her houses. Madonna isn't a really buddy-buddy, palsy-around, slap-you-on-the-back, beer-at-the-pub kind of girl. Because we were all so focused on her, I now realise that she really didn't know me at all as a person. But I did some of my best work with her, and she did with me, and I miss that part of it."You know, it's interesting. By doing a book like this, you get to see who are really your friends and who just wants the seats in the restaurants, the connections with Madonna, the access to the tickets. Now, I have a small group of people who care about me and look after me and I know who they are and that's great. But I lost quite a few people who I thought were my friends. It made me feel vindicated on some levels about certain people. But in the end, it makes me feel lonely."? Life With My Sister Madonna by Christopher Ciccone is published by Simon & Schuster, £17.99Il Ciccone: Christopher's lifeBy Gordon Agar1960: Born 22 November in Bay City, Michigan, to Madonna Louise (who died of breast cancer, aged 30, in 1963) and Silvio "Tony" Ciccone. His siblings are Martin, Anthony, Madonna, Paula Mae, Melanie, Jennifer and Mario.1980: Begins career as a dancer with Le Groupe de La Place Royale in Ottawa.1982: Moves to New York; choreographs Madonna's Everybody video.1984: Appears as a backing dancer on Madonna's Lucky Star video.1990: Artistic director of Madonna's $65m-grossing Blond Ambition world tour, which included controversial depictions of sex and Catholicism.1993: Designs and directs Madonna's Girlie Show world tour.2003: Madonna dispenses with her brother's services, employing choreographer Jamie King to direct her Drowned World tour. 2008: In pre-production to direct serial killer thriller TwistMadonnaguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2009 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Published: Sun, 04 Jan 2009 00:04:21 GMT - Source: Guardian.Co.Uk - Read the articleEuropeIs 41 too late to become a father?
Last night I ate a large bowl of beetroot from my garden. This morning my urine is the colour of rosé wine and I'm worried that my semen might have taken on a similar hue. The colour of my semen is a concern because someone will be studying it in a short while. I'm considering this while sitting in the top floor 'specimen room' of the London Fertility Centre on Harley Street. Later on, when I mention where I've been to friends and colleagues they seem really interested in the interior design details of a room set aside for masturbation. So if you're planning one, here's some decorating tips. The room is on the second floor and it has two notices on its door: one saying 'Quiet Please' (in case passers-by are inclined to cheer or clap, I guess) and a sliding sign with 'Vacant/Occupied' options - I've opted for 'occupied' although I'm not, so far. Inside, the room is about 6ft x 12ft and painted in various pale non-colours. It is equipped with an ensuite shower, light-green vinyl-covered daybed and a fudge-coloured bathroom suite (including bidet). There is a sash window - which isn't overlooked. The atmosphere is more Carry On than Casualty. On one side of the sink there is a small empty plastic beaker (with my name on it). On the other a DVD player, screen and a remote. I consider all the hands that have touched the remote. Using one of the many tissues provided I pick it up and inspect it; it appears to be clean. The television doesn't show any of the normal channels.I'm here because I'm concerned about my sperm. Not that they might be beetroot coloured, but rather that they might not be fit for purpose. That they might not be as athletic, plentiful and perfectly formed as they need to be. I'm 41 and childless, and although I'm not involved in a 'trying-for-a-baby'-type scenario I've been reading the papers and the news for fortysomething men and their sperm isn't great.'Scientists warn that biological clock affects male fertility' warned the Guardian in July - well, scientists are always saying stuff aren't they? 'Risk of miscarriage soars once the father reaches 35' (Daily Mail) - that sounds worrying. 'Blokes going infertile aged 35' (Sun). Must have sex, pronto! The papers were all reporting in their own particular ways on the research of Dr Stephanie Belloc from the Eylau Centre for Assisted Reproduction in Paris. Dr Belloc had studied the records of 12,000 couples who visited her clinic and separated out the influence of the mother's and father's ages on the chances of conception and miscarriage. Belloc and her team found that women whose partners were 35 or older had more miscarriages than those who were with younger men, regardless of their own age. The risk of miscarriage was on average 16.7 per cent when the men were aged 30-34, but it doubled to 33 per cent in men over 40. Moreover, her research showed that men's ages also affected pregnancy rates, which were lower in the over-40s. As the Mirror summed it up, 'Over-35? You're a dad loss.'I can remember ridiculing my own father for being 40, so how did I end up childless at 41? To start with I went to university and became middle-class. It seems only people from council estates and people who own estates have kids young these days. The middle classes are too busy in their twenties establishing careers, climbing the property ladder and going on snowboarding holidays.Although lack of one doesn't stop some people, I feel you need to be in a reasonably stable relationship before having kids - and I haven't been in one of those of late. But of late, many of my peers are reproducing, some are already on to their third. Even the ones who had drug problems are conceiving and, meanwhile, gay friends are cutting breeding deals with lesbians. I wonder if time is running out.It's an easy thought to have because I can't act on it, but sometimes I think I should have had some children in my twenties. I had more energy and didn't have many material comforts to give up or much of a lifestyle to compromise. I'd be packing them off to university around now, thumbing sports car brochures and thinking about buying a peach farm in Spain. Frankly, I can't remember that much of my twenties, so maybe it would have put this decade of void to good use. I don't recall any of my peers having kids; maybe it was a hangover from the Aids era - people seemed pretty conscientious about birth control, there were no 'accidents'. So now, at 41, I wonder if I've skipped the whole kids thing. I seem to be developing the hobbies and pastimes of a senior citizen - golf, growing beetroot, buffing my classic car. But the reality is I've got 19 years until I qualify for my bus pass - which is just enough time to raise at least one human being. So should I be worried about or believe in the 'male biological clock'?Back in 2001, Professor Dolores Malaspina, of Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons, concluded that men aged 50 or over are three times more likely to father a child with schizophrenia compared with men of 25 or under. Four years later, epidemiologist Jorn Olsen at the University of California, Los Angeles, found a fourfold rise in Down's syndrome among babies born to men aged 50 and older. And in 2006 scientists from the Institute of Psychiatry at King's College, London and Mount Sinai School of Medicine in New York found that children born to fathers aged 40 and over were nearly six times more likely to suffer from autism than those with a father under 30. Meanwhile, other researchers have suggested patterns between older fathers and increased chances of bipolar disorder, dwarfism and Apert syndrome - whose unlucky sufferers have a malformed skull and webbed hands and feet, among other disfigurements. A report in 2006 even suggested 'a modest effect of advanced paternal age on the Apgar score'. And after finding out what an Apgar score is I now know this to be less than good. The evidence appeared to be stacking up.Yet are these findings as scary as they sound? Dr Belloc's sample was made up entirely of couples presenting for infertility treatment. 'It is not evident that we can extrapolate these conclusions to a fertile population,' she tells me. And many of the incidences in the other studies are minute; so a fivefold increase is still only a five-times-minute chance of some disorder or other. Moreover, these studies only show patterns, rather than direct causal links - finding a direct link would probably require examining DNA at a detail beyond most researchers' budgets or ability. Some commentators have speculated that if a man first becomes a father in his forties or fifties that may indicate he has had trouble forming relationships earlier in his life, which may mean in a mild, undiagnosed kind of way he's a carrier of problems like bipolar disorder or autism which have a genetic element - so his paternal age is irrelevant to the outcome.Which isn't exactly comforting, but it suggests the 'male biological clock' doesn't tick as loudly as the headlines suggest. For Dr Allan Pacey, senior lecturer in andrology at Sheffield University, the clock is nothing more than ageing. As you grow older, you lose a bit of hair and experience the odd 'senior moment', so you shouldn't be surprised if your sperm isn't as sprightly as it used to be. 'In terms of numbers it's the same, but what tends to happen is that the sperm isn't as good.' If their biological clock is ticking, men are pretty deaf to it. The age of fatherhood is creeping up: the latest figures from the Office of National Statistics show that the average age of married fathers rose from 29.1 in 1971 to 34.1 in 2003 - getting close to the 35-year point where some of the problems are alleged to kick in. I ask Dr Pacey if this is a worrying trend. 'The problem is couples are waiting until they are older. To wait until the woman is approaching 40 is the wrong time to be starting, and that will be exasperated by any problem that he has due to ageing.' Dr Pacey's advice to me is not to hang about: 'You will be more successful having a child naturally at an earlier age; it will be cheaper for you and it will be much more fun than waiting until you're well into your forties, going to an infertility clinic and having it done artificially. What we're finding are lots of people attending infertility clinics in their forties who would have succeeded in getting pregnant at 25. Rather than waiting for technology to sort it out, if you are in a position to have children early, then go ahead and do it.'What Dr Pacey and others are quick to point out is that there's definitely a female biological clock. Women are born with a finite number of eggs and at some point they will run out. According to the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA), a woman is half as fertile at 35 as she is at 25, and half as fertile again at 40.You might be thinking, 'Why is he bothering to spell that out, everyone knows that?' Well, before researching this piece I was only vaguely aware of those blunt facts, but, more surprisingly, when chatting to single and married thirtysomething childless women about this article they start saying things like: 'My gran had my mother at 45,' 'What about Madonna?' or, most biologically incorrect: 'I'm not ready yet.' They seemed about as informed as I was. 'With the Madonnas and all the rest who seem to have children quite naturally, no one mentions IVF or egg donors, and celebrity miscarriages don't make the pages of Heat,' says Dr Pacey. 'This silence reinforces the myth that these miracle births happen, when often there's a medical intervention.' And IVF isn't a safety net: according to the HFEA, IVF has only a 12 per cent success rate for a 40-year-old woman. And it will cost you: the NHS, on the advice of the National Institute of Clinical Excellence (Nice), doesn't fund IVF for women over 40 because of the low success rate. The average cost of a cycle is £4,000-£8,000. Is it chauvinistic to question the sense of delaying having kids for the sake of a career if you're going to spend most of the extra income on fertility treatment?However it's not only career building that is nudging the maternal age up; those commitment-phobic, nappy-changing-averse partners make a contribution, too - people like me. One could argue that this male biological clock business is providing men with another excuse to avoid having kids - we move from 'I'm not ready yet' to 'It's too dangerous now' in the time it takes to power up a Nintendo Wii. Or maybe you could blame the introduction of Viagra - which has engendered the idea that men can stay virile forever, so why rush? - as most men think the difference between virility and fertility is latex thin. But if you're looking for something that's really obscuring the hands of the male biological clock, look to famous people. When it comes to fertility, biology tells us one thing, but celebrities tell us another: ie, no matter how superannuated you are, getting your girlfriend up the duff is child's play. Middle-aged famous fellas love a baby shower. Dr Pacey isn't impressed: 'The John Humphrys thing does distort the picture. There'll be lots of men who will read this piece and say, "I was 50 and I had a child," and it's really difficult to argue against that because they do, but statistically you are less likely to succeed and more likely to have problems. For the individual who has been successful it will seem stupid that I'm saying that, but for every 50-year-old father there'll be 10 times more thinking, "I had a lot of problems."'Even if you, your sperm and your wife from a younger generation manage to buck the stats, there are other non-bio reasons against fathering kids late. Most obviously you might die before they graduate - if you're 65 now, on average you'll die at 82 - although for how much longer you will be capable of having a kick-about, helping them with their homework or visiting the lavatory without their assistance isn't recorded. And while it's embarrassing to be mistaken occasionally for their grandfather, it's thoughtless not to meet your grandchildren.Am I being too hard on the older dad? I call Charlie Lewis, professor of family and developmental psychology at Lancaster University. Should we give middle-aged men the snip? 'Some men claim to be better fathers when older, but I don't see this in the majority of men. I find them saying, "I'm clapped out, I've done my bit at work, I've provided a house and comfortable living, now let me vegetate." They think it's their right to sit in front of the telly and not take part in any interaction. It's almost autistic. Older fathers tend to do less of the stereotypical activities than younger fathers do, less childcare and less kicking footballs - for fear of snapping a tendon. They think, "I'm much too old for this."'Surprisingly, Lewis is more relaxed about the dying thing. 'I don't want to put fathers down, but if you look at the majority of evidence on loss, it does point to losing a mother before 11 being more predictive of later social/psycho disorders than losing a father. These effects are most often caused by the child absorbing the surviving partner's grief. So if the mother can manage the grieving process, the predictable death of an older father needn't be a life-changing trauma.'Dads dead or alive, we should be more concerned about the kids, says Lewis. 'You do get studies that say old dads feel closer to their kids, but I'm not aware that kids feel closer to their older fathers.'I wonder if I would become one of these dead-beat, distant dads. I like to think not. I don't quite understand how that could happen. What kind of an individual would tune into a Top Gear repeat rather than read to their child or even relieve them of a shitty nappy? Maybe I'm being naive. I talk to some dad friends.Gary, 45, first became a father when he was 23, but then remarried and had three more children, the oldest of whom is five. Would he like to compare and contrast? 'Obviously becoming a father young was a bit of a shock, it made me grow up quickly. I'm not sure at that age if you're responsible enough to look after yourself let alone a little child.' So how is it second time around: does older dad mean better dad? 'When my second wife first wanted children I did have slight panic attacks, because I had this memory of it being a total whirlwind, but this time it's completely different, it doesn't seem half as stressful as when I was in my twenties.' Gary says this isn't just because he's been a parent before - 'No, it's mainly because I'm more grown-up, more patient, more financially settled. I'm far more chilled out this time around.' So you'd advise an older option? 'It's better to have children at a later date, but myself, I'm worried about getting older. First time round I was one of the youngest parents in the playground; now I'm one of the oldest. My youngest is 10 months, so I'll be at retirement or grandfather age in her late teens. You hope to be running around in the park, doing those things that children want you to do and provide as parents. Hopefully I'll be one of those who manages it, but I will have to wait and see.'The energy issue: I've heard this raised before. People talk about the nuclear-like amounts of energy you need to bring up a child, but I suspect it's similar to the stamina needed to squire a girlfriend half your age. Because down-ageing your just-broody girlfriends each time they start describing a new frock as 'a bit maternity' is really the only alternative to producing offspring.Jonathan, 49, had two sons when he was 23 and 27. He says the early months were 'terrifying', and both he and his girlfriend had to abandon their career plans: 'Our embryonic lives together as a couple were entirely transformed into a fully fledged proper adult relationship. And we didn't have much money - I even used to scavenge skips for firewood.' But for all the foraging the relatively small age difference means he's closer to his kids. 'We can go to the cinema together, appreciate some of the same music, go out for a beer, they call me by my first name.' He got divorced and, a couple of years ago, he remarried. He isn't keen to become a father again: 'I'm interested in the relationship with my wife rather than with anyone else. The relationship I have with my children is established, I like the marriage and lifestyle we have, and because of my previous experience I can see how that could be compromised.' What is his advice for someone like me, thinking of becoming a father in my forties? 'I think, you're not going to get a lot of sleep. And by the time you're my age, when you take your kids to a restaurant they'll be running around banging their heads, stealing food, whereas I'll be discussing the amount of oak in the Sauvignon with mine. I'd think about that quite carefully.'So that's what I should have done. Bred early. Guess there's no point in crying over spilled, er, milk.The trouble with this when-to-procreate business is it's personal. Apologies, it's not much of an insight but everyone is different. They earn lots of money, earn not much money, like kids, don't like kids, have live-in help, are still looking for The One, are given a babies-or-else ultimatum by their partners, had a shit childhood themselves, don't feel the need to have babies to preserve their relationship, are worried they'll pass on a condition, feel they've established their career, don't want a career, haven't been to Patagonia yet - the list of caveats and factors that make it the 'right time' for someone is as long as the waiting list for a Doctor Who Dalek Electronic Voice Changer Helmet.So, to borrow a phrase from a Dragon: 'Let me tell you where I am.' For me, I think 45 is the cut-off. For biological reasons - you can't donate sperm past 45 - there must be something in those scary reports. And financially, I'd like to retire on time, if indeed I'm lucky enough to still have a career by then. Which doesn't give me much time, I guess, to meet someone, fall in love, imagine being with this person for the foreseeable future - if that's not over-romantic, delusional, too-much-like-a-John-Cusack-movie. But I'm getting ahead of myself: maybe I'm firing blanks anyhow.For the 20-minute wait while my sperm is being tested, I chat to Dr Magdy Asaad, clinical director, in his office about the problems with semen. Mine is being tested for volume, viscosity, concentration, mobility, morphology and antibodies. Dr Asaad uses the gold standard WHO criteria which are surprisingly generous - only 50 per cent of your sperm needs to move, for instance, and you're allowed up to 80 per cent with an abnormal form, such as funny-shaped heads or two tails, 'because 20 per cent of 20m is considered enough, it's a lot of sperm,' Dr Asaad chuckles.I'm curious: do anxious men often pop in on their own for a lunchtime sperm test, check everything is wriggling right? 'It's not common, but when men present on their own, it's normally a problem with their ability to have an erection or ejaculation.'Well as you can tell I have no problems in that area, I say.'But some men don't like to give a sample,' he continues. 'They find all kinds of excuses: maybe they are worried it will not be good, or that it's an artificial thing, to press a button [is he talking about the remote control?]. I don't know how it was for you, I'm not asking. Sometimes a gentleman will have difficulty preparing manually.' Unbelievable.The walls and desk of the doctor's office are smothered with framed photographs of beaming parents with their children - patients he's helped to fashion a bundle of joy for over the years. In your experience, I ask Dr Asaad, when is a good age for procreation? 'You're mature enough by your late twenties, early thirties, responsible enough, you probably have a job, a partner. I don't think it's a very serious problem waiting to 40-45, but beyond that you have to think about time with the child.'With that, Dr Asaad prints off a piece of A4 containing all my sperm's vital statistics. 'It's a good sample,' he says, 'so you're all right.' I'll spare you the details.On one hand this is a relief, but on the other it means I've no alibi, no excuses, I'm ready to breed. All I need now is a woman.Paternity frights: ten bus-pass fathersJulio Iglesias Sr, a dad at 89Nobody could accuse the gynaecologist father of Julio and grandfather of Enrique, and who was head of a Madrid family-planning unit, of not taking his work home with him. After having two children with his first wife, he remarried and, at 89, when his wife was 40, produced another son. Barely out of the maternity ward, Ronna signed up for IVF and within a few months was pregnant again. Tragically, filling a test-tube turned out to be the former Franco supporter's last significant act: two months later he was muerto. His daughter Ruth was born posthumously seven months later in July 2006. Dad-speak: 'At my age, a child is marvellous. I felt just like Abraham. It was an act of generosity towards her [Ronna]. I leave her part of my blood, of my life.'Saul Bellow, a dad at 84The Nobel Prize-winning novelist had four children: three sons with his first three wives, and a daughter, Naomi-Rose, with his 41-year-old fifth wife. He died when she was five, in 2005. Writing two months after his death, one of his sons, Adam, whose mother Bellow left when he was two, recalled 'a fond but highly attenuated bond with a frequently distracted, often absent and much older father.'Dad-speak: 'Well, my wife won't be lonely when I die. She'll have somebody'Anthony Quinn, a dad at 81The star of more than 100 movies, including Zorba the Greek and The Guns of Navarone, enjoyed procreating. He had five children with his first wife Katherine, the daughter of Cecil B DeMille, three with the second, then at the age of 81, he got his 29-year-old secretary pregnant, married her and had two children. The double Oscar-winner also squeezed in three more children with women he wasn't married to before he died in 2001. Dad-speak: [of his penultimate child] 'She's beautiful, she looks like me'Rupert Murdoch, a dad at 72The Australian-American global media mogul (real first name Keith) has been married three times. He produced one child with the first and three (Elizabeth, James and Lachlan) during a 31-year marriage to the second. Seventeen days after the $1.2bn divorce, the Dirty Digger married former photographic model Deng Wendi (she transposed her names post nuptials), a 30-year-old executive at his Asian Star TV channel. They have two children, the most recent in July 2003. Dad-speak: 'All my children will be treated equally'Des O'Connor, a dad at 72The former Countdown host has been married four times and has four grown-up daughters. His current wife, the 37-years-younger singer/dancer Jodie, who he met in 1990, when they were doing panto together, provided him with a son in September 2004. Dad-speak: 'When the baby was born the odd comment was made about my age, but I plan to play football with Adam'Luciano Pavarotti, a dad at 67The well-upholstered tenor had three daughters with his first wife, who he stayed with for 35 years. Then, in 1996, he left her for his secretary, Nicoletta - 36 years his junior. In 2003 she gave birth to twins, another daughter and a son; tragically, the latter was stillborn. 'The King of the High Cs' died after a long battle with pancreatic cancer just before his youngest daughter's fifth birthday. Dad-speak: 'I never imagined that at this time of life I would have another child. But I met Nicoletta, and she is young'Warren Beatty, a dad at 62After years of womanising (Natalie Wood, Julie Christie, Isabelle Adjani, Vivien Leigh, Cher, Madonna, Carly Simon, Barbra Streisand, Britt Ekland, Diane Keaton, Mary Tyler Moore, Janice Dickinson and Faye Dunaway to name a few) he plumped for Annette Bening. They've had four kids, the latest of whom was born in 2000. I think we can assume fatherhood has mellowed Warren. Dad-speak: 'We're fortunate to have a big house'Rod Stewart, a dad at 60The rooster-haired senior citizen has been breeding for 41 years. He's had seven children by five different women, although modest Rod often downgrades to six offspring, passing over his first, who was put up for adoption: 'You can count her if you want. I try not to,' he once said. Penny Lancaster provided him with his sixth/seventh, Alastair, in 2005. According to his brother Don, Rod prefers to leave Alastair's nappy-changing and feeding to the hired help. Unperturbed, 37-year-old Penny has dropped heavy hints she'd like a second with the 63-year-old Celtic fan.Dad-speak: 'I didn't see my oldest kids a lot as they were growing up. I don't feel any guilt, but maybe having a family is something Rachel and Alana and I should have thought about more before we had children'Michael Douglas, a dad at 58The Basic Instinct star had a son, Cameron, with Diandra Luker, his wife of 23 years. She divorced him in 2000. Later that year he ran into Catherine Zeta Jones and seduced her with the admirably direct and honest line: 'I'd like to father your children.' True to his word he hasn't let the 25-year age gap stop him from impregnating her twice, when he was 55 and 58.Dad-speak: 'It's not that I didn't enjoy it the first time, but I just didn't have the time. I'm not the only father who has felt guilty about the lack of time spent with his kids. So now I have a situation where I can savour it with my younger children. And you can see the effect of hanging out with them for three years and the security they have. And for me, it's a ball. Movie roles come and go and it's a finite period of time. This is sort of eternal'John Humphrys, a dad at 56The Welsh son of a hairdresser and French polisher has been married twice. The first wife provided the Mastermind host with two children, now both grown up. He remarried in 1987 and, after a reverse vasectomy, the Today programme interrogator became a proud father to a son, Owen. Dad speak: 'I thought I might resent this little kid for buggering up my life, as it were. The opposite has happened to me because of him. He's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me'FamilyHealth & wellbeingHealthguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2008 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Published: Sun, 16 Nov 2008 00:05:16 GMT - Source: Guardian.Co.Uk - Read the article
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