Stephen Wight on Fashion, Tortured Geniuses & Bringing McQueen to the West End

Stephen Wight came to attention in the plays of Patrick Marber (Dealer’s Choice, Don Juan in Soho) and then moved on to TV and further acclaim. Now, the actor has transferred to the West End for an extended run of James Phillips’s play McQueen, which takes an impressionistic look at the fashion designer Alexander McQueen, who died in 2010 at the age 40. Broadway.com spoke to Wight prior to the start of the play’s fresh run at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, where opening night is August 27.

How does it feel to have McQueen get a West End upgrade?
To have this opportunity to continue forward is a huge gift and a huge honor. It’s a joy to be able to say I’m not quite done yet.

Amazingly, McQueen is one of your relatively few commercial West End gigs. It seems you’ve mostly worked at places like the St. James, Donmar and National.
Yes, and I thought I’d do it while trying to play someone who was alive only a few years ago and was an artistic genius. Talk about making it easy on myself! When an opportunity like McQueen comes along, it’s a gift of a role that you can’t take lightly; you cannot turn it down.

How did the role come your way?
I was in L.A. losing my pilot season virginity when I got a call saying that they were interested in seeing me. They were kind of seeing everyone and were really struggling to find an actor for the role. I met James [Phillips, the writer] and John [Caird, the director] over Skype and must have got away with it because I was offered the job the next day and then had to make quick plans to come back.

Sometimes last-minute things can work out the best.
The speed of it all was both a blessing and a curse. I came back to London straight off the plane and into rehearsals, so perhaps I wasn’t able to do as much research as I would have done otherwise, but I just took a sharp intake of breath and went with it.

Did you stop to wonder whether you look like McQueen?
People had told me that I did but I never saw it myself—until I shaved my head and grew facial hair and then I began to see some similarities.

Was it hard getting inside the role of such a successful but distressed character?
I read the biography that had just come out and was continuing to look at footage of him online so whenever I wasn’t rehearsing, I was living with Lee [the designer’s actual first name] McQueen. My poor wife was having to put up with her maniac husband getting into the head of a tortured genius.

Did you know much about McQueen prior to taking on the part?
I knew him mostly through the tabloid press, which is to say that I was ignorant as to just how great he really was. My knowledge of his garments and the way he worked was genuinely lacking, which is where the V&A Museum exhibit really helped. One look around and you see evidence of this extraordinary man and mind at work.

What do you think of all the attention at the moment devoted to the brief lives of both McQueen and Amy Winehouse?
It’s a lot to do with the celebrity world we’ve created and the wealth of 10-a-penny celebrities like those people off reality TV—with what have they gifted the world? Then you’ve got people like Lee and Amy who produce genuine works of art but are hounded by the press and are such sensitive souls that it becomes incredibly difficult for them. People not knowing who you are can be an underrated gift.

What was it like to perform in front of McQueen’s family?
That was an incredible pressure because really the only thing I cared about was a validation from the family. I knew they were all going to come to the [St. James] press night and that was a monumental moment for me, and the guy who wrote [McQueen’s] biography invited [his sister] Janet to the first preview, which was an experience I’ll never forget.

What happened?
I’ll never forget Janet’s words, which set me free in a way because I was worried to a degree that you can’t really quantify about what she would think of my performance and how I portrayed her brother. I also met Gary, Lee’s nephew, for an informal drink that was organized by the producers and it was reassuring to find that he, too, very much believed in the play.

Can you leave the play and the part behind at the stage door?
I’ve tried to make more of a conscious decision to leave Lee in the dressing room. This is a grueling part and a grueling journey, so I’m pretty wiped afterwards. I think it’s important that I allow people to see me as me rather than as Lee.

How has this role affected your own personal fashion sense?
I basically dress like my costume: jeans and boots and a T-shirt or long-sleeved top from [UK men’s store] Oliver Spencer, though I do also like Oliver Sweeney jeans. Unless [the designer] has the name Oliver, I won’t wear it!