Courtesy of le-papier-a-gaumet.com
But I think it doesn't matter a whit. I don't think anybody loves him for his beauty. It is to me a combination of his talent and his presence. He's like a big, huggable bear that could accidentally hurt you. He doesn't have hands, but paws. His chin is a weapon. And yet all those mis-mated parts form a very beloved actor. And why not? He has performed in so many movies since 1971 that the titles won't fit on a nineteen inch monitor.
Courtesy of stars-celebrites.com
He was born in 1948, like Baryshnikov. He's gotten even more shambly as time goes on, and still it doesn't matter. He loves wine, woman and food. Hey, he's French. I saw him on live television last year and he'd slimmed right down, then I saw a recent still shot and he'd returned to beardom.
One biographical site claims his work as: actor, director, singer, vintner, boat crewman, farm hand, beach attendant. I plan to spend my evening imagining M. Depardieu in those various roles. I have had more boring nights.
In the meantime, raise a glass of rouge to Gérard!
Courtesy of getthepicture.free.fr
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