We were making The Company of Wolves. And we had a problem. With Angela Carter, I had written a scene where the devil drives a cream-coloured Rolls-Royce through an imaginary forest, chauffeured by the young dreamer Rosaleen, played by Sarah Patterson.
My initial thought was for Andy Warhol to play the devil. Those pale-blue eyes and that blank expression framed by the blond wig. Andy read the script and liked it. Stephen Woolley, the producer, flew to New York to talk to him, but he was recovering from being shot by Valerie Solanas, who seemed to think he was the actual devil. He said he would play the part, if we shot his scenes in New York.
Which gave us the problem. Susie Figgis, the casting director, suggested Terence Stamp. I remembered him from Superman, The Collector, Far from the Madding Crowd, but most of all from Pasolini’s Theorem.
He lived in the Albany, a strange oasis of quiet just off Piccadilly, in the bustling centre of London. As I entered its weird Ruritanian portico it struck me that it would be a perfect residence for the devil, if he ever chose to exist.
I met Terence, saw those eyes that were even bluer than Warhol’s and realised that the devil, if he did exist, would be just such a gentleman. A gimlet jaw, just a hint of a smile and that dangerous, indefinable quality, absolute charm.
The “Ruritanian forest” we constructed was designed by Anton Furst. There were trees with bark like the musculature of flayed animals. There was an enormous split oak, the roots of which mimicked a high-heeled shoe.
Terence was driven through it in a pale Rolls-Royce, by Sarah Patterson in a platinum blonde wig, dressed in a cream-coloured chauffeur’s suit. He held the shrivelled skull of a long dead infant in his hand.
He handed a small phial of ointment to a young man, who, for some odd reason, wanted to turn into a wolf.
It all made perfect sense and was shot in one unforgettable hour and I believe he did it for the tailored suit he wore.
A truly angelic devil.