The Rake October 2016 - Issue 48

Close your eyes and remember. It’s not Al Pacino as Michael Corleone, the prince waiting to assume the weight of his father’s crown, nor the king himself, Marlon Brando as Don Corleone, august and sage in the winter of his rule, but the humble proprietor of the funeral home named Bonasera who has the first line in The Godfather. And that line is, “I believe in America”. It says it all with a compact poignancy that transcends its eight syllables and has come to mean so much to me and to legions of Americans before me. I should point out that I’m not American — my country, Singapore, doesn’t allow dual citizenship, and at the age of 18 I was faced with a parentally steered decision as to which country…

Say what you like about politics, it does encourage the most inventive use of language, which all in all must be a good thing. Gerrymander, filibuster, whistlestop, dog-whistle, cronyism, realpolitik: it’s all good stuff. The Rake is certainly more artisan than partisan (there’s another), but it’s easy to get wrapped up in the excitement of elections, referendums, impeachments, coups and general hostility. The problem is that all the do-gooding that each side preaches gets lost in the anger, arguing and attacks. Good intentions go to politics to die, and then the road to hell is paved with them. Never has this seemed truer than it does now — between where I sit writing this note, in London, and the country to which this issue is dedicated: America. America could not have…

ANDERS OVERGAARD Danish-born photographer Anders Overgaard comes from Helsingør, the home of Hamlet. Anders’s interest in photography was piqued at the age of 10, when he began taking pictures of subjects he knew well — his skateboarder and windsurfer friends. His love of the outdoors and the water continues to fuel the energetic quality of his work. In 1990 he moved to New York to work with the world-renowned photographer Bruce Weber, and then spent the next five years travelling with him. Ultimately, Anders put down roots in New York, where he has worked as a photographer for the past 15 years. He divides his time between New York, London and Copenhagen, with his wife and two sons. In this issue, Anders photographed Pedro Pascal for our cover story (page 88). STUART…

“I’m not a Charles Bronson fan,” confided Charles Bronson to a Los Angeles Times interviewer in 1975. “I don’t think I turned out the way I thought I would turn out when I was a kid. I’m a disappointment to me. My image, my sound, everything else.” This is an uncommon admission for an actor to make, particularly when he is the world’s most popular and highestpaid movie star, as Bronson was in the mid seventies, and even more so when that popularity hinges on a leathery, gruff, pitiless persona, honed to archetypal American tough-guy inexorability in films such as 1974’s Death Wish, in which he played an architectturned-vigilante in New York, hunting down his wife’s killers and daughter’s rapists with Terminator-like, take-no-prisoners tenacity. Such roles earned him the nicknames ‘Il…

So if there is one guarantee in life, apart from death and taxes, it is that hotspots are cyclical. The Rake speaks about Saint-Tropez in a way that would make you think it is the epicentre of everything sophisticated and cool. Though that was 50 years ago: spend five minutes at Nikki Beach nowadays and you will see no resemblance to anything elegant, or even anyone who would know who Agnelli was. O.K., that was quite snobbish. But the point is that the world is a big place, so when the old guard of hotspots feels edged out, there is always somewhere new to go. Just as the summer months have endless destinations associated with jet-set elegance, skiing is no different. You say Saint-Tropez, I say Aspen. In fact, the comparison…

When Grace Kelly, legendary beauty, classic Hollywood star and Princess of Monaco, was asked if she would write an autobiography, her reply was telling. “No,” she said, “but I would like to write one about my father, in which I am only a postscript.” For most of the world, this must have been baffling: how could her father possibly be more significant than one of the most famous women in the world? For Americans of a previous generation, particularly those from Philadelphia, it would have been wholly understandable, however. John B. ‘Jack’ Kelly was a legend in his own right. A self-made multi-millionaire, influential politician and classic American patriarch, Kelly was also the greatest rower of his time, winner of three Olympic gold medals. Until his retirement in 1924 he dominated…