Profile: His distinctive appearance and unconventional roles may have kept him from stardom in the past, but now his time has come, writes Donald Clarke
Musing upon Jonathan Rhys Meyers's Emmy nomination for the CBS miniseries Elvis, one unavoidably finds oneself searching for parallels between the career of the late singer and that of the charismatic Corkonian stick insect. Both men emerged, their raw talent fully formed, from troubled backgrounds. The sexual appeal of both men is flavoured with a pinch of camp. And they have both enjoyed notably impressive comebacks.
Prematurely hailed as a phenomenon some years before Colin and Cillian got themselves into first gear, Rhys Meyers has taken some time to click properly with audiences. He first attracted serious attention in 1996 while murdering Liam Neeson in Neil Jordan's Michael Collins. When, two years later, he played the glam rocker Brian Slade in Todd Haynes's Velvet Goldmine, everyone assumed superstardom was but a lunge away. It didn't quite happen.
Perhaps Rhys Meyers's cadaverous appearance was a little too gothic for general consumption. Maybe his early films weren't close enough to the mainstream. Whatever the reason for his slightly sluggish start, he arrives at tomorrow night's Emmys with his career in better nick than it has ever been. Who cares if his Elvis is almost certain to be beaten to the award by Geoffrey Rush's Peter Sellers?
The myth that has grown up around his discovery recalls stories of Lana Turner being spotted at a soda fountain. It is said that the formidably powerful Irish casting agent, Ros Hubbard, found him hanging around a Cork pool hall when she was working on the children's drama War of the Buttons.
"That is pretty much true," Hubbard says. "We went to the Victoria Sporting Club, a pool hall in Cork and asked the guy there if he had what we were looking for: somebody who doesn't fit in, but could become a leader. He told us there was this teenage guy who hung around there who would be great. We came back and filmed him and he was amazing. We virtually kidnapped him there and then."
Born in 1977 as Jonathan O'Keefe, the actor was raised on a Cork council estate. Each chapter of his early life could happily accommodate the word "trauma" in its title. His father left the family home when the boy was just three years old. He was expelled from school at 14.
In an interview, Christopher Crofts, the Cork farmer who became Rhys Meyers's semi-official guardian, has commented on his unsettled home life.
The relationship with Crofts is a fascinating one. The older man, who met Rhys Meyers in an amusement arcade, has always been keen to clarify who approached whom. "I always felt he chose me," he went on to say in that interview. "I, personally, am gay, but I've never fancied him. We've always had a father-son relationship. I could see he needed stability and structure in his life - and a phone."
The sentimental urge to discover Jonathan's grim past in his bony, gaunt face should probably be resisted, but there can be little doubt that he brings some of that damage to his tormented performances. Perfect as the demonic servant who scrambles to power in the BBC's adaptation of Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast, Rhys Meyers is never likely to shine in a bubbly romantic comedy. Though he attracted attention in Bend It Like Beckham, he was probably the most morose figure in that airy film.
"Directors either love him or hate him right away," Hubbard says. "There is no in-between. The moment he comes into the room they know if he is right. But it is amazing he plays evil so well, because he is just so sweet."
At any rate, producer David Puttnam didn't think the young actor was suitable for War of the Buttons and he had to wait until Michael Collins for that big break. Despite the smallness of his role as Collins's assassin, his peculiar presence lodged in other directors' brains.
After prancing around in Nicolas Roeg's ill-advised TV version of Samson and Delilah - Liz Hurley is Delilah! - he was snapped up by Todd Haynes, a brilliantly eccentric director of largely gay themes, for Velvet Goldmine. The part of Brian Slade, a misshapen simulacrum of David Bowie, called upon Rhys Meyers to camp it up somewhat. Despite (or, perhaps, because of) the impressive parade of female celebrities who have appeared on his arm - Asia Argento, Rachel Leigh Cook, Estella Warren - he has always been commendably happy to joke around when questioned about his sexuality. "Sometimes I speak to girls at a bar or party and the question comes up: 'Are you straight or are you gay?' They can't really tell, so I tend not to protest my heterosexuality or my bisexuality. I give a bit of a wry smile and a little wink," he once quipped.
Surprisingly for somebody so cheekily flirtatious, he had a relationship with the resolutely sensible Australian actress, Toni Collette. The two went out together for about a year, but Rhys Meyers has subsequently admitted he always felt somewhat less mature than her.
Has he grown up since? Reports suggest otherwise. His reputation for high-living had been gathering around him since he first got a whiff of fame. His press interviews - generally delightfully indiscreet - are littered with references to hangovers and their supposed cures.
"You learn quite quickly in this business that if you don't do all that you miss a rite of passage," Ros Hubbard says. "I don't know anybody who hasn't been a little bit bold in this trade. He would be a total bore if he hadn't done that." It has to be said that for every colleague who has a story of him being obstreperous or difficult there are another half-dozen who, like Hubbard, think him the sweetest man on earth. Lisa Cook, who works for his Irish representatives, the Lisa Richards Agency, is also in that latter camp.
"He is the most generous, thoughtful guy you could hope to meet," she says.
"I can remember meeting him in America for a chat about his career and he stopped off in the middle of the conversation to spontaneously help out a homeless guy in the street. He gave him some money and helped him on his way. A very lovely guy."
Cook and his other buddies will be relieved to see how healthy Jonathan has been looking over the past few months. As viewers of a recent Late Late Show interview will attest, he now has a little more flesh on his bones and seems at ease with the world. The word is he has also cut down on the gargle.
Of course, the upturn in his career cannot but help his general attitude.
Last year he was cast opposite Scarlett Johansson in Woody Allen's upcoming comedy Match Point. The film - possibly light, though definitely not bubbly - is rumoured to be Allen's best in a decade, and Rhys Meyers is said to be excellent in the role of a former tennis professional.
Then there is Elvis. In earlier years one might have argued that Rhys Meyers had such unusual features he could never play any recognisable personality other than himself. Just think of his terrifyingly simian villain in Ang Lee's great western Ride With the Devil (1999). No other human - unless we are allowed to include the subject of Munch's The Scream - had looked quite so palely wretched. But the new, softer Rhys Meyers brings warmth as well as angular sexuality to his Presley. This is the musical force of nature who blew out of Tupelo into Sam Philips's Sun Studios in 1953. But it is also the cute, gentle bloke whose posters teenage girls once drooled over. It's amazing what you can find in a Cork pool hall if you look hard enough.
The Rhys Meyers File
Who is he? Once ghoulishly gaunt, now just comfortably trim Buttevant resident, who overnight went from pool-hall layabout to movie star.
Why is he in the news? He has been nominated for an Emmy - television's equivalent of the Oscars - in the category of best actor in a miniseries for his title performance in Elvis. The awards ceremony is tomorrow evening.
Most appealing characteristic: Cheekbones so sharp they slice the neutrons out of oxygen atoms as he passes through a room.
Least appealing characteristic: Faintly gloomy aspect which can cast a pall over any scene in which he is involved.
Most likely to say: Since my baby left me, I've found a new place to dwell.
Least likely to say: I don't want to go to Chelsea. Hang on. Have I got this right?