Mel Gibson: How a Hollywood hero lost the plot

Hollywood is an unforgiving place, but if you're Mel Gibson, you can get away with anything. Almost anything, that is. He survived accusations of extremism over The Passion of the Christ - now he's crossed the line with an anti-Semitic outburst after his arrest for drink-driving. And in a town where many of the most powerful players are Jewish, the damage to his 30-year movie career could be terminal. Andrew Gumbel reports

In Hollywood, there are the screw-ups, and then there are the career-ending screw-ups. In a town that mirrors, and often, exaggerates and glamorises the moral lapses of society at large, people - or at least the people in charge - don't generally have too much of a problem with flamingly public marital bust-ups, or drunken binges, or drug habits, or weird attachments to religious sects, or wanton destruction of property, or even the habit of certain exalted actors and directors of hitting on every semi-attractive member of the opposite sex who crosses their path.

Some things, though, are absolute no-nos. Paedophilia crosses the line. So, too, do rape, incest and murder. (Fatty Arbuckle crossed two of those three lines in the 1920s, and Hollywood has never forgotten it.)

They are no-nos not because Hollywood has some baseline moral scruples - publicists are forever looking for ways to turn bad news into the next promotional opportunity - but, principally, because they are bad for the box office. The infraction doesn't have to involve criminal behaviour at all, in fact, for the money men to start worrying. The key consideration is whether it risks deterring audiences from showing up at the multiplex.

By that standard, Mel Gibson would probably be fine now if all he had done was to fall off the wagon and been caught out on a drunken binge in the early hours of last Friday morning. He would be fine even with the embarrassment of a prosecution on drunk-driving charges - which he now faces, after he was caught speeding on the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu and found to be 50 per cent over the legal blood-alcohol limit.

Even if things had been worse than they were, and he had smashed his 2006-model Lexus LS 430 into another vehicle, Hollywood would probably have forgiven him - just as long as he hadn't killed anybody in the process.

Unfortunately for him, though, he also crossed one of those uncrossable Hollywood lines. According to the handwritten report of the arresting officer - a document posted on the internet over the weekend, and whose authenticity has not been challenged - he then went off on a drunken tirade against "fucking Jews"; accused Jews of being responsible for all the wars in the world; and asked the arresting officer, James Mee, whether he was himself Jewish.

It is hard to imagine any way in which the 50-year-old actor and director could have done more to sabotage his own reputation. Attacking Jews is never smart in today's America; doing so in Hollywood, where Jews have occupied key positions of influence since the 1930s, is truly an act of biting the hand that feeds you.

Ever since the 2004 release of his hugely controversial but highly lucrative biblical epic The Passion of the Christ, Gibson has been fending off accusations of anti-Semitism - in his film, in his family background, and in his personal belief system. The noise created two years ago by Bible scholars and some of America's more aggressive Jewish activists about the way he portrayed Christ's final hours might, in and of itself, have been enough to kill once and for all Gibson's golden-boy box-office aura.

The reason Gibson eventually came through that episode relatively unscathed was, first, because he mounted a reasonably effective rearguard action against his critics - making a few modest changes to the final cut of his movie, recruiting some heavy-hitting supporters from both the Catholic and the Jewish communities, and insisting, during a blizzard of publicity appearances, that he regarded anti-Semitism as a sin.

Even more important, the film ended up defying all expectations and making more than $1bn in cinema and home rental revenues. Instead of shunning Gibson, Hollywood has spent the past two years trying to emulate his recipe for success - most notably his grassroots publicity campaign, which was launched through local church communities.

Now, though, the issue has reattached itself to him with a vengeance. Yesterday's Hollywood trade newspapers wasted no time wondering whether Disney might now reconsider distributing Gibson's next idiosyncratic film project, Apocalypto, which tells the story of the decline of the Mayan civilisation in Mexico. It was due to be released in the United States in December.

Like The Passion of the Christ, Apocalypto promises to be ultra-violent. It, too, was shot in an obscure dead language, forcing subtitle-averse US audiences to read their way through the story. It, too, features a cast of largely unknown actors. In other words, it was always going to be a dicey commercial proposition whose only true selling point was to be Gibson's personal reputation.

That reputation has now taken an extraordinary beating. Jewish groups - in particular the trenchant, near-implacable Anti-Defamation League - have been the first to denounce Gibson. "His tirade finally reveals his true self and shows that his protestations during the debate over his film The Passion of the Christ, that he is such a tolerant, loving person, were a sham," a statement by the ADL's Abraham Foxman said yesterday. "It is unfortunate that it took an excess of booze and an encounter with a traffic cop to reveal what was really in his heart and mind. We would hope that Hollywood now would realise the bigot in their midst and that they will distance themselves from this anti-Semite."

This is a problem that extends beyond the Jewish community, though. Much of Gibson's fan base for The Passion of the Christ were fundamentalist Christians - the sort of people who take a dim view of archetypal Hollywood shenanigans and are as likely to be offended by Gibson's drinking and swearing and swaggering disrespect for the arresting officer (he threatened, in an obscenity-laced tirade, to make Officer Mee's life hell and boasted that he "owned" Malibu) as they are by anything he said about Jewish people.

Chat sites all over the internet - including politically conservative forums - were filled with expressions of disappointment at Gibson over the weekend. One typical entry cited by Variety yesterday read: "Gibson showed his true colours... I argued with you about The Passion of the Christ and his portrayal of Jews. I stood up for Gibson to you and a number of my Jewish friends. Now, I'm sorry I did."

In an age of keen awareness of the viral power of online marketing, Hollywood takes this sort of sentiment extremely seriously. When Tom Cruise started jumping up and down on couches to proclaim his love for Katie Holmes last year, and used his devotion to Scientology to denounce fellow celebrities who had admitted struggling with mental illness, Paramount Studios became concerned enough about the hit his reputation took that it almost pulled the plug on Cruise's next blockbuster movie, Mission: Impossible III. The disappointing box-office performance of M:I:3 - it took only $133m domestically, barely enough to cover its production costs - has, in turn, made Paramount think twice about Cruise's production deal at the studio, which is up for renewal in a month's time.

In Gibson's case, it does not help that he already has something of a volatile reputation and a distinct penchant for eccentricity. The dreamy, sexpot matinée-idol image of his youth - which fuelled his greatest commercial successes, from Mad Max to the Lethal Weapon series - now seems to be firmly in the past. Indeed, he appears to have all but given up on acting: his last leading role was in M Night Shyamalan's crop-circle thriller Signs in 2002, and he hasn't had a bona fide acting hit since What Women Want in 2000.

These days, he is not only focusing on directing, but on directing his own self-financed projects, informed by his idiosyncratic membership of a deeply traditionalist offshoot of the Catholic Church. For the past several months, Gibson has appeared in interviews sporting a thick beard flecked with white, making him look more like an Old Testament prophet than a Hollywood movie star.

This switch in Gibson's professional interests has not necessarily made him unpopular with his friends and colleagues and neighbours. In Malibu, where he lives about a mile inland from the beach in a gated community, he is known as a committed family man - he has seven children - and an ardent supporter of numerous local causes, starting with the state school system.

In Hollywood, it's hard to find anyone who dislikes him on a personal level. He may no longer be the party-going prankster of 15 or 20 years ago, but he is considered smart and personable and highly approachable.

Gibson himself, though, has alluded many times to a darker side to his personality. "I was a pretty wild boy, quite frankly," he said in one interview. "Even now when I'm trying more than I was before, I still fail every day at some level, but that's being human."

Around the time he was promoting The Passion of the Christ, he was even more explicit: "I got to a very desperate place. Very desperate. Kind of jump-out-of-a-window kind of desperate. And I didn't want to hang around here, but I didn't want to check out. The other side was kind of scary... When you get to that point where you don't want to live, and you don't want to die, it's a desperate, horrible place to be. And I just hit my knees. And I had to use The Passion of the Christ to heal my wounds."

In a statement released over the weekend in response to his arrest, Gibson acknowledged that he had battled alcoholism all his adult life and characterised his drunken binge as a "horrific relapse". He added: "I am deeply ashamed of everything I said, and I apologise to anyone who I have offended."

That apology was not enough for the ADL, which said Gibson had failed to get "to the essence of his bigotry and anti-Semitism". It may not be enough for Hollywood, either. Not only does Disney have to decide if it wants to distribute Apocalypto, but Disney's subsidiary ABC now has to decide if it wants to go ahead with a television series about the Holocaust that Gibson put together largely in response to the last round of accusations of anti-Semitism. The project, entitled Flory, would tell the true story of a Dutch Jew called Flory Van Beek and the non-Jewish boyfriend who sheltered her from the Nazis.

We can now expect a lot of old questions to come back to haunt Mel Gibson: whether his traditionalist branch of the Catholic Church holds the Jews responsible for Christ's death, and whether he is not altogether too close to his eccentric father, Hutton Gibson, who has explicitly denied the Holocaust and denounced the reformist wing of the mainstream Catholic Church as a "Masonic plot backed by Jews".

Variety predicted yesterday that Gibson might have to give up on the idea of mainstream studio distribution of Apocalypto and distribute the film on his own through his company, Icon Productions.

One way or the other, he is probably in for an uncomfortable few months. His best hope is that Apocalypto turns into yet another unexpected box-office smash - at which point, in true Hollywood fashion, all will be forgiven and his tirade against the Malibu police last Friday night will be written off as just another industry indiscretion.

A conversation with Mel's agent, as overheard by David Thomson

"Mel, Mel! It's Alan. Alan Nerob. How are we, baby?"

"I don't know about you Alan, but I'm shit-face."

"Mel, you know we don't talk like that."

"Man, I tied one on!"

"I understand, Mel. Firstly we need to establish that you're under immense stress. Is that not so? Talk to me of stress, baby."

"Well, I guess so."

"Mel, this is Alan, please do not make with the Braveheart for me now. I want to know that I am talking to a wreck. What we have to do here is, whatever the attack, we say the situation is far worse."

"Really? You think I can get away with this?"

"Mel, I don't promise you a rose garden. But we have been here before, haven't we?"

"We have?"

"The Passion, baby, the passion of the one I don't like to mention."

"Oh, right."

"This was a picture that no distributor was ever going to touch? Have I got that right?"

"Exactly right!"

"And Mel Gibson was going to be abused and humiliated among men. And everyone would remember that his daft Dad had said there was no Holocaust?"

"Right on!"

"And what did Alan say?"

"You said, 'Hold on, baby, there's always people to the right of you in this country.'"

"And was I proved correct?"

"Alan, you were on the money!"

"Well, baby, I'm glad you remember the money because as Alan remembers it the money was coming in in truckloads."

"Still is! Still is!"

"OK. Now, Alan has a mantra and he wants Mel to say this several times: 'The money is still coming in in truckloads.' Recite that... I have to take another call. One minute."

Mel Gibson is heard reciting the mantra. He stumbles occasionally, but you can hear the steel returning to his shattered personality.

"Hi, it's Alan. You sound stronger."

"It's good stuff, that mantra."

"That mantra is the word. But work with me, do not be too strong."

"I like to be strong. I'm a hero. I'm feeling better already, Alan."

"Hush, Mel - not better, not yet. OK, tell me. How old is Mel?"

"Shit, Alan, why you have to ask that... I was 50 this year."

"Oh! Let me say it again: Oh! Do we have a midlife crisis here? Physical problems? Memory gaps? Of course you do. Mel, you are 50 and you have been doing too much and you drink."

"Alan, I don't drink that much more than I ever did!"

"Mel, at your age, you don't have the brain cells to stand up to it. You were smashed in Malibu - right? And you told this cop that he was probably Jewish. And the Jews were at the source of the problems. Stuff like that, right? Soak it up, baby."

"I guess I said that."

"Because you were too blasted actually to know what you said?"

"Alan, I was out of control."

"Mel, one correcto. 'You were acting like a person out of control.' That is a key sentence in our statement."

"I was acting?"

"Mel, you are an actor. You were only like someone out of control. It is the first way of regaining control."

"Cool."

"I want you all over the TV by Sunday. With the cop. You are to be contrite. I'd suggest that you're not entirely groomed for the occasion."

"Don't shave?"

"And you reveal that you've had a drinking problem. We call it a health problem. You'll be taking 'necessary steps to ensure my return to health'."

"And you think that will swing it?"

"Mel, if we've learnt one thing, it's that we can get away with nearly anything. All you've done is get smashed and kid a nice-looking cop about being Jewish."

"But in this town, Alan!"

"Mel. Work with me. In this town, you're never going to be the most liked guy. You know why? You're a smash hit, baby. You've made junk, and the people go to see it."

"Hey, easy on, Alan. That stuff is from the heart."

"I like that tone, Mel. No one ever went wrong in America with that line. Of course it's from the heart, and that's why the people who love you love you. Remember, 'The money is still coming in...'"

"And it's a good film."

"Mel, there were people in my business who said, 'That Gibson jerk has gone too far this time.' I told them: be careful of sincerity. With sincerity in America, who knows what you can do? And I saw that film be bigger than anything you have ever done."

"The biggest!"

"You see!"