They share a knowing look, the sort that comes only when
you know the bones of someone. “On some level, it’s about
making that, on there,” says Smith of their special relationship,
motioning to the stage.
At first, though, Smith turned down the play. “Initially
Matt said no, and I was like, OK,” Foy says with a shrug,
feigning nonchalance. What was his reason? “Oh, I say
no to everything initially,” Smith says. “‘No, no, no, no...’
But then the longer I spent with the play, I thought, ‘I’d like
to go and watch that.’”
Macmillan – whose plays include the award-winning
People, Places & Things – wrote Lungs nine years ago, whenclimate change was, for many, still an abstract concept, a
niggling concern to be dealt with another day. But on the
afternoon of our interview, Paris has just recorded its hottest
day in history – a molten 45C, reported in countless headlines
detailing the rapid, terrifying deterioration of the planet.
Meanwhile, this year’s most sought-after cover star is Greta
Thunberg, not a Hollywood ingénue, but a 16-year-old
climate change campaigner.
To call Lungs timely is an understatement, especially if,
like me, you are a thirtysomething woman obsessively
chewing over the pros and cons of procreation with your
other half and your (very few) remaining childless friends.
I may even go as far as to say that, for some, the play may
be deserving of that most millennial of caveats: a triggerwarning – particularly when you consider that it opens
with a row in Ikea.
“I feel quite fortunate, because I’m a ditherer and I could
have had the conversations they have in this play a thousand
times,” concedes Foy, of having her daughter, Ivy Rose, four
years ago, with her ex-husband, the actor Stephen Campbell
Moore. “I sort of just went, ‘I’m doing this and here I go,
argh!’ For our parents’ generation, it wasn’t a choice necessarily- it’s what you did – but I think these two people [in Lungs]
struggle with something that is about choice.”
I feel compelled to confess that the conversations in Lungs
struck so close to home that I had to stop reading the script;
that, recently, my boyfriend has said he is contemplating not
having children because of the apocalyptic picture that’s
been painted of the planet’s future.
“Really?” Foy almost shrieks. “He’s chickening out.”
“He said that?” Smith balks, before continuing, perhaps
not entirely seriously, “You’ve got to. You owe it to yourself
and your life.”
I tell Smith, who has been in a relationship with actor
Lily James for five years, that I’d read he wanted children.
Has that changed? “No, it hasn’t changed,” he says
confidently, and I envy him his conviction. “What’s
interesting as a man is, I’ve always seen my life with
multiple children. I’m 36 now and people keep going,” here
he puts on a geezerish accent, “‘Well, you better get on
with it, mate, if you’re going to have four.’”
“It’s very true what they say in the play,” counsels Foy,
“which is that our child might save the world. I do think
that about my daughter. Her generation can see what their
grandparents did well and badly, they can see us and the age
who had Instagram and Twitter. And I really do think that
they’ll grow up probably not eating meat and dairy, and not
being on Instagram or Facebook, because they’ll be like,
‘Why would you do that? It makes you feel bad about
yourself. Why are you such an idiot?’”
Smith nods, and the talk turns to the tyranny of social
media, something Smith particularly dislikes. “I’m convinced
that in 50 years’ time, it will be like smoking and people
will think we’re absolutely mental. But we’re not on any
of that stuff.”
“No, I know,” she says, “but you see it affecting people
around you.”
Why do you stay off it? “It would be bad for me,” Foy,
who has struggled with anxiety, says simply, adding, “I used
to be addicted to the Mail Online.” Apparently, this was “a
revelation” to Smith when he found out. “I honestly almost
fell off my chair,” he gasps.
“If anyone stops me to have a photograph, I just go,
‘No, thanks,’” Foy continues. “I’m not being rude. It’s also
my choice about whether I want to stop. It’s normally that
I’m literally at the public swimming baths, sopping, and
I really don’t feel like doing this right now. Or I’ve got
off a train. I think it’s because I’m a woman that people
don’t go, ‘What the f***?’”
Before they say their goodbyes to each other, Foy and Smith
decide to have a stab at running through some of their lines.
It’s still two months until rehearsals start in earnest and so, as
Foy says, “This is all imaginary at the moment.” She then adds
shyly, “I think the most important thing is, I want to be good
for Matt – and, I presume, Matt wants to be good for me.”
“For himself,” he interrupts. Joking, naturally. “I’m convinced
this play will make a brilliant television series,” he says, looking
across at his friend and co-star.
“It would,” she says. “A one-off.” n
Lungs is at The Old Vic, SE1, from 14 October to 9 November
Above: Matt wears
checked suit, £3,550,
Giorgio Armani.
Shirt, £400, Hermès.
Watch, Matt’s own.
Opposite: Claire wears
lamé dress, £5,900,
Celine by Hedi Slimane.
Gold and garnet earrings,
£3,250, Noor Fares.
For stockists, all pages,
see Vogue Information10-19-Well-ClaireFoyMattSmith.indd 252 09/08/2019 11:19