In 2013, Max Irons was “Jeremy Irons’ son.” 2015 was: “He’s becoming a big name.” Now, 2017 he stars in “Bitter Harvest,” which opens Friday.
Max: “The film deals with the ’30s. Stalin’s genocide. Death by starvation, giving your produce to the Soviet regime, a heartbreaking enforcement that killed millions of Ukrainians, is not well-known in the United States.
“Our crew, extras, nobody spoke a lick of English, and we weren’t exactly proficient in Ukrainian. But they were efficient. Their intentions were great. None knew who any of us were, but interpreters lined up everyone properly.
“I fell in love with the country. Unfortunately, I was so busy working there was no time for shopping or sightseeing besides a few churches and a little countryside.”
So you’d go there for a vacation? “Sure.”
His character Yuri ends up in a concentration camp. How did they make handsome Max look wasted?
“My hair grew longer. Prosthetics and makeup added bruises and cuts. To look leaner, I ate less. We filmed in the historical actual prison. There were dark moments. It was absolutely freezing there, which affects your movements.
“With outdoor shooting you move slowly.”
So, the Oscars. Ever attend with your father, who’s won one? “No. I was away at school. But I might go now.”
Set to star in TV’s “Three Days of the Condor,” newly hotshot Max says: “Filming starts in April in Canada. I play a young CIA guy. Then, after I get home and crash in London, I’ll pay my taxes. I once lived in New York. I’d love to stay here. I love New York.”
So how long will he be here?
“I leave tomorrow.”
There are no more secrets . . .
Pro techies now worry about Big Data’s emergence. Everything — credit, Google, cellphone, purchases leave digital traces. We’ve read how only 68 Facebook likes tell race, sex, affiliations, intellect, religion, habits, drugs, parentage.
Psychological profiles — hunting absent fathers, angry introverts, or undecided anybodies — are now sought and found. Professionals are increasingly disturbed about the dangers their search engines present.
They understand findings were employed by politicians — and realize the data was used in relation to how we now run this country.
One specialist, asked his feelings, replied: “I don’t know. I’m conflicted.”
Together again
Ann, Mrs. Mitt Romney, Massachusetts’ former first lady, is out with “In This Together.” The book details her faith, vulnerabilities and battle with MS. The Romneys met in their teens, have five sons, financial security. Her memoir, saying how the wheelchair-bound attend her appearances, allows eyebrow raisers. St. Martin publishes the paperback version April 4.
Please try to pay attention
Noontime. Mike Bloomberg, black binder in hand, scrambled from an SUV in front of 731 Lex. Climbing from his NYPD car, a cop shook the former mayor’s hand . . .
Drums are beating that Preet Bharara is training binoculars Albanyward . . .
Kevin Kline, opening for 16 weeks at the St. James in Noël Coward’s “Present Laughter,” won 1989’s Oscar for “A Fish Called Wanda.” Anyone know that when it got home the family dressed it in Barbie clothes?
About yet another tabloid story of yet another chickadee clawing yet another rooster into court for yet another bundle of feed, one guy says: “This type always knows a good thing when they sue it.”
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.