Born in London in 1965, Joely Richardson is an actor and campaigner. The daughter of actor Vanessa Redgrave and director and producer Tony Richardson, she trained at Rada, and rose to prominence with roles in 101 Dalmatians, Nip/Tuck and The Tudors, as well as in theatre and on Broadway. More recently, she appeared in Guy Ritchie’s The Gentlemen, and Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale. Richardson is working for Save the Children’s annual festive fundraiser, Christmas Jumper Day, and also backing the charity’s new Christmas campaign.
I remember this as a happy day, but my eyes tell a different story. They look a little mistrustful. In my arms is my brother Carlo – we have different fathers; his is Italian actor Franco Nero. That day was Carlo’s christening, and it was obvious from my hand position that I’m not used to standing like that. Someone’s gone: “Put your arms out! We’re taking a picture of you holding the baby!” The whole thing looks awkward.
Before the ceremony, I’d gone down to the Italian version of the local Woolworths to pick out an outfit. I didn’t usually wear dresses – I was more of a tomboy – so this felt like a special occasion. The only other time I’d worn anything fancy was as an extra in one of my father’s films, The Charge of the Light Brigade, but because my hair was cropped short, they put me in a strange little pageboy outfit. As a result, I was thrilled to wear this frilly nylon dress, even if I do look shy and ill at ease in it.
Growing up, I was always mischievous and naughty – running around, putting on plays, inventing characters. I lived in a completely creative environment. The culture of fame wasn’t as intense as it is now, so there was no consciousness of coming from “a theatrical dynasty” or having well-known parents. Absolutely nobody was talking about sponsorship or paparazzi. Instead, there was a lot of reading books, talking about films and going to see plays.
My mother and father were away working a lot, so Carlo and my sister Natasha and I were very domestic together. Because of my parents’ work, I didn’t feel that I always had that person to look after me, other than Natasha. But along the way I found other role models: teachers, friends, mentors, people to guide you through the dark.
When I became a teenager, my form of rebellion was sports. I wanted to do anything but act professionally. In the end, going on stage became my comfort, my outlet. I started to come out of my shell by doing school plays and I liked to step into an alter ego; the terror melted away as soon as I pretended to be someone else. I’ve always gotten nervous before speaking or performing, but over the years that shyness has faded. I think it’s because I’ve always loved people, and over time my curiosity about them pulls me out of my own head. I suppose confidence is like slowly chiselling away at fear until one day you realise it’s gone.
As for partying, I never had any money in my younger years, so I wasn’t going clubbing and I wasn’t ever rock’n’roll. Because of my family, there was an element of myth that followed me around, and people assumed I would be rich. The reality was very different. I remember people being shocked when they came to visit me at Mum’s house: “Wait, this is just a two-up, two-down. We thought you’d live in a mansion with a swimming pool.” Mum didn’t have any money; and if she did, she’d give it away to causes. Over time, we moved from that house to a smaller house, then a flat. There was always a feeling of things crumbling around us. As a result, I knew I wanted a nice house as soon as I could afford one.
Being in Nip/Tuck was an exciting time. We were still filming the first season when it started airing, so I could be walking down the street – which no one does in LA, but I did because I’m English – and people would stop me and say: “And when he did that! And when you did that!” Seeing people so caught up in the story while we were still making it was incredibly rewarding.
The popularity of the show wasn’t difficult to adjust to, as I’d experienced some recognition from various projects in my 20s. But I did notice a shift after Maybe Baby, a film I did in 2000 with Hugh Laurie and Ben Elton. For the premiere, I wore a backless gold dress. Before the 00s, you could turn up in a pair of old jeans to a premiere and nobody would blink an eye. I hadn’t expected my dress to become a “moment”. After that, the It-girl label started to get used when I was being written about. I found it very odd. But it wasn’t about me. It was about a dress, and a moment of change in the industry. The business of brand deals and journalists asking “What are you wearing” on the red carpet was just emerging.
After Natasha died [in 2009, from a brain injury after a skiing accident], I spent a lot of time in New York, where her boys were living. It was completely life-changing. I hadn’t lived a day without her and she was a figurehead for me, as well as being my sister. When a tragedy like that happens and there are children to think about, everything’s blown to pieces and then it has to come back together again quickly. A dynamic has shifted and a massive regroup takes place, which went on for a few years. It was so long ago that now life after her death has become the norm. Which is probably why I post old photos of her online so much.
When it comes to ageing, the buildup for women is quite discombobulating, but the minute you’re over 50, you realise it’s fine. There is nothing to be scared of. Now that I am 60, I definitely feel more free, but there is a growing realisation that time is a limited commodity and I want to make sure I spend it wisely.
In many ways, I have never loved my job more than now. The truth is, I don’t have to retire. I can keep working for ever. Of course, the parts are going to be different; sometimes as an older woman you can feel marginalised as there are only a limited number of great roles. But I felt that more in the UK than anywhere else. It was really hard to break back into the English market after I turned 50. I would get offered work all over the world, but just never in my own country. I had to start with tiny roles: a little bit here, a little bit there – anything that would just help me get a foot in the door. Then it gradually started to pick up again.
I always say to my friends and loved ones, if it was all over tomorrow, I’d be OK because I’ve had a great life – despite all the heartbreaks, despite the moments that I literally had to peel myself off the floor and had no idea how to cope. So much so, I feel for the version of me in this photo. When I think of that strange little girl, I want to tell her that I know it will be OK: you will always find the strength to walk through it all.
