Geoffrey Rush isn’t afraid to lean into eccentricity—both professionally and, as you’ll soon see, personally. Born in Queensland and raised near Brisbane, Rush is the only Australian ever to achieve the Triple Crown of Acting. After a random stint as a mime in Paris, Rush got his big break in 1996, starring in Shine as the child-prodigy pianist David Helfgott. Since then, he’s portrayed a colorful collection of characters, from a domineering theater owner in Shakespeare in Love to Pirates of the Caribbean’s villain turned hero, Captain Hector Barbossa. Now he stars alongside John Lithgow in the psychological thriller The Rule of Jenny Pen. To celebrate the film’s release, the actor shares his key components to the good life. —Carolina de Armas
Airline: Qantas (Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services). Founded in my home state in 1922. They’ve had their ups and downs, but their safety record is impeccable.
Airport: Wellington International Airport, in New Zealand. It’s breathtaking and the strip is short.
Alibi: “Phone battery died. S’sorry!”
App: AccuRadio. Specifically their AccuBroadway channel. You find it when you need it.
Bag: Sometimes a pillowcase works.
Bedtime: Nowadays, a sensible one.
Bike: Never electric—too many seniors are hurled over the handlebars going downhill.
Breakfast, weekday: Muesli, plain Greek yogurt, and manuka honey. Only after the pug has had her food.
Breakfast, weekend: Full English breakfast with chilies or Arabic spices. Only after the pug has had her food.
Car: Have never owned one. I can’t drive. I forgot to do it.
Child: Cupids in Renaissance art and one’s own—warts and wonder and all.
Cocktail: Negroni! The secret is to line the glass with Angostura bitters; throw in a clove and a tiny eyedropper of a dark grappa. (Shh, I promised I’d never reveal this alchemical potion.)
Cocktail appetizer: Big Sicilian green olives or Nibble Nobby’s Nuts.
Dinner, weekday: Home-cooked pasta alla Norma. Only after the pug has had her food.
Dinner, weekend: Eating out at favorite restaurants. Pug is happy at home.
Disguise: I am glabrous, but on professional occasions I have often needed a fake beard. I recommend high-quality yak hair, minimal spirit gum, no lace, and a great makeup artist like Luigi Rocchetti.
Fit: Flares and platform shoes should have been made illegal in my youth.
Flaw: We all have them. Hence we’re tragic heroes who fail or even die. That’s life.
Foil: Stewart Granger’s in Scaramouche. Greatest on-screen sword fight ever.
Friend: A loyal one with common sense and empathy. Someone to have a big laugh with that hurts.
Good-bye: “See you soon!”
Hideaway: Adults and children playing hide-and-seek on holiday.
Insult: One that makes the recipient laugh and things fly out of their nose.
Jacket: Unstructured and light.
Last Meal: Lean filet of steak, string fries, spinach, a fine Syrah. And that the pug has passed away long before.
Match: Those that you used to strike on the sole of a cowboy boot but are now disallowed.
Movie: City Lights. Charlie Chaplin. Quotidian. Transcendent. Poetry from the dying days of silent cinema.
Neighbor: Communality will determine our collective survival. We’ve been hardwired for that as a species for eons.
Nonfiction book: Anything that clarifies the true nature of the universe in exciting poetic language and with illuminating clarity.
Pen or Pencil: Bold 6B pencil. Makes all handwriting thrilling.
Pet: Our aging pug.
Piece of advice: “Bugs Bunny is who we would like to be. Daffy Duck is who we really are.”
Restaurant: Where an ebullient chef or host chooses for you.
Singer: The ones who reveal from the bottom of their soul that life is extraordinary.
Television series: Hard one—it would have to gazump the brilliance of Curb Your Enthusiasm and Succession. But something will, one day.
Theme song to your life: “The Windmills of Your Mind,” by Sting.
Time of day: Twilight, when light is fading, knowing it will return again and again.
Toast: A heartfelt “Here’s to … (insert name here).”
View: Earth from the moon as only a dozen have seen yet.
Work of art: Impossible to answer. I propose Jean Sibelius’s Symphony No. 5—epic but solitary, ordinary yet cosmic.
Geoffrey’s Essentials
