Recently I have borne witness to the mental mayhem of press tours. I stress the mental aspect because the meticulousness of the planning that goes into a tour — with studio and personal publicists keeping tabs on everyone, and coordinating things to the minute — is the sugary glaze slathered over the toll it must take on those involved. So it was for the press tour behind Gran Turismo, the film promoted by this issue’s cover star, David Harbour. I met David in the chic, riviera-style courtyard of the Corinthia, London’s junket hotel-in-chief, and immediately he earned my sympathy. Fresh off the red-eye from New York, he was in the hometown of his wife, Lily Allen, and had arrived in time to see her in the new West End production of The Pillowman the night before. But he was in London for only 48 hours — thereafter, he was to continue the slog to Australia, and his jet lag had just begun. Fiddling with the Partagás D4 I had brought him as a kind of peace pipe, our conversation began.
Left, David wears Double-breasted wool suit, pale blue cotton button-down shirt, Canali; silk grenadine tie and pocket-square, Edward Sexton; burgundy socks, The London Sock Company; Oxfords, Allen Edmonds; 18ct yellow-gold 1908 watch, Rolex.
Right, Prince of Wales check suit and blue chambray shirt, both Brunello Cucinelli; pocket-square, Edward Sexton; 18ct yellow-gold 1908 watch, Rolex.
David Harbour’s success cannot be described as overnight. He put in his 10,000 hours under the radar, enduring mixed fortunes as he went. Subsequently, though, he has become nearly as big a phenomenon as the show for which he is best known, Stranger Things. Like many of the actors we feature on our cover, he is proof positive of The Rake’s thesis that a man can (and should) become his most essential self as he gets older — and Harbour has had sex-symbol status thrown in as well, for good measure. His formative years had a cosiness and a kind of John-Hughes America about them. He grew up in White Plains, a town in New York state within the boundaries of Westchester County, or “Tennis Town, USA”, as David calls it. He traces the origin of his impulse for acting to White Plains, with its lonely suburban sprawl, houses spaced far apart, and parents absent from home, which leaves children to explore the woods, get up to mischief, and fill their days with whatever their imaginations come up with.
Below, David wears Black cotton shirt, No Maintenance; black wool trousers, Todd Snyder; socks, London Sock Company; two-tone penny loafers, Marc Nolan; 18ct yellow-gold 1908 watch, Rolex.
Left, David wearsWhite and black windowpane unstructured jacket, Edward Sexton; black cotton shirt, No Maintenance; black wool trousers, Todd Snyder; socks, London Sock Company; two-tone penny loafers, Marc Nolan; sunglasses, Jacques Marie Mage; 18ct yellow-gold 1908 watch, Rolex.
Right, Black cotton shirt, No Maintenance; black wool trousers, Todd Snyder; socks, London Sock Company; two-tone penny loafers, Marc Nolan; 18ct yellow-gold 1908 watch, Rolex.
As mentioned, the film that David is currently promoting is Gran Turismo. It is a story that — as I say to him, and fortunately he takes in the way it is intended — were it not true would make for the stupidest film ever made. The premise is that an avid gamer who spends most of his days playing the racing simulator Gran Turismo on his PlayStation is so familiar with car specs, tracks and racing lines that he can compete in real life in the Super GT Series and take a podium at Le Mans. Well, that’s exactly what happened to the British racing driver Jann Mardenborough, and Gran Turismo is his tale.
Read the full interview in Issue 89, available to purchase on TheRake.com and on newsstands worldwide now.
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