EVERETT: THE DECLINE AND FALL OF A STIFF UPPER LIP

In the midst of a diatribe against England’s Central School of Speech and Drama, actor Rupert Everett stopped mid-sentence to register polite shock at a lampshade hovering outside the window of his fourth-floor suite at the Chateau Marmont. Dangling by a string, it bobbed, jiggled and danced in bizarre greeting for several minutes before being yanked out of sight.

“Uh . . . heh, heh,” Everett cleared his throat and laughed slightly. “Those are my friends upstairs.”

Knowing that the 24-year-old was in the midst of an interview, his friends (who later revealed themselves to be Beverly D’Angelo and Eric Stoltz) spared no effort in unnerving him with repeated phone calls, lampshade-lowering and other nonsense.

Wearing white pants, black leather jacket and a shirt unbuttoned to the waist, Everett struggled in his gracious, soft-spoken manner to remain coherent, poised and ever-mindful of his art. Finally, he gave in with a helpless shrug.

“This is completely going to ruin my image,” he said, his handsome solemnity dissolving into laughter.

It was a rather preposterous situation for the critically acclaimed young actor, whose screen persona--to date--has been anything but silly.

Everett leaped into the British limelight several years ago with his role as Guy Bennett, a rebellious and openly gay English prep school student, in both the theatrical and film versions of “Another Country.” His film performance was hailed by critics on both sides of the Atlantic.

This year, his co-starring role with Miranda Richardson in “Dance With a Stranger,” named best foreign film at the Cannes Film Festival in May, received equally widespread acclaim.

“Dance,” playing limited engagements in Los Angeles and New York, is based on the true story of Ruth Ellis, who in 1955 became the last woman to be executed in Britain.

The London nightclub hostess was convicted of the murder of David Blakely, her troubled, violence-prone, upper-class boyfriend.

Playing such a character would never have appealed to actors concerned with maintaining a positive image. Even Everett had doubts when he read an early draft of Shelagh Delaney’s script--but for surprisingly different reasons.

“I thought it seemed to have a bit of a feminist angle (i.e., women as victims) which--I thought--destroyed the whole worth of the story,” he explained. “I’d just been acting with two feminists in a play and I think most of them are fascists.”

Everett, his perfect nose wrinkling in distaste, explained that when the play called for one of the white women to play a Moor, the others threatened to walk out if a real black wasn’t used.

“It’s ridiculous! Taken to its logical end, that means that if you’re playing a pregnant woman, you must be pregnant.”

This opinion--and others--has bestowed a somewhat controversial reputation on the actor.

“I don’t think it’s outspoken,” he said. “It’s the truth. It seems to be a waste of everyone’s time not to talk about what you feel.”

Everett felt strongly that David Blakely’s story was not represented fairly, and undertook some research on his own.

“I couldn’t just play this ‘whack! bang!’ type of character (referring to Blakely’s frequently demonstrated tendency to give Ruth Ellis the back of his hand). I had to come to terms with the role--I couldn’t merge with the character if I didn’t like him, or didn’t have an admiration for him on some sort of level.”

What he found was that Blakely had come from rather lowly origins and was considered upper class only because of his mother’s second marriage to a wealthy man.

“He was trying his best to behave like the rest of them and still wasn’t quite making it,” Everett explained, anxious that Blakely be understood. “Then he meets Ruth, exactly the sort of person he’s been trying to block out of his life, and he fell in love with her. But he wasn’t strong enough to face the push of the class structure. He ended up in violence against her, against himself. . . . “

He paused. “I felt very sorry for him. He was nice, but he was weak. I think weakness is a fascinating thing. I got to like him; then the role was easier for me to do.”

However, he found it difficult to watch the finished film. “I hate violence, and seeing it with audiences who gasp every time I hit her . . . ,” he trailed off, then added: “It’s a very disturbing, sad film.”

D’Angelo and Stoltz arrived in Everett’s suite. The actress swept into the room in a black evening gown that seemed straight out of an “Addams Family,” closet while Stoltz--sporting a never-explained shiner--wore a long satin evening blouse over a floor-length black skirt, socks that didn’t match and tennis shoes.

Everett broke up, then tried to explain: “We’re going to a party afterwards.”

“Isn’t it a great look for Eric? . . . Bernardo wants you to call him. . . . Do you have a corkscrew? We got the jet!”

D’Angelo maintained a steady stream of conversation as she and Stoltz walked into the kitchen and, evidently, out a back door.

Everett’s expression was reminiscent of those who have found themselves in the “Twilight Zone.” Still, the actor--who said he now divides his time between New York, Los Angeles and London--spoke affectionately of them and other American acting peers.

“Sean Penn is a brilliant actor, Eric is up there--he’s not good, he’s great. Mickey Rourke is truly extraordinary,” he enthused. “Jessica Lange is a sort of force of nature, Cher is amazing. . . .”

“I like actors,” Everett continued. “I suppose actors are the only ones who can cope with the boredom of being with actors.” He laughed. “There are a whole lot of things you don’t have to explain to each other--the neuroses, the self-doubt--it’s very relaxing.”

However, when it came to English actors, theater, movie-making and almost anything associated with his mother country, Everett had very little to say that was positive.

Dismissing the stage brusquely, he maintained that “the English have this tradition, which they’ve built up themselves, of being the pioneers of the theater--which they aren’t as far as I’m concerned. We had two great eras--the one that produced Olivier, Ralph Richardson and Michael Redgrave and the one with Albert Finney and that age group. Then we’ve sort of lived off that for a long while.”

Part of this dislike no doubt stems from his experience at the Central School, where he received his only formal training in acting.

“I was doing interesting stuff and they weren’t accepting it. It was like I was made to rebel,” he recalled, somewhat bitterly. “I probably didn’t behave perfectly, but I think when you’re at the beginning of your artistic or creative career, you’ve got to have a free rein to try anything.”

These days, Everett said, he dislikes theater everywhere.

“I find it boring. The people I want to play to don’t go to theater--they can’t afford to go, but they wouldn’t go even if they could: They’d go to the movies.”

Surprisingly, he wasn’t as critical when it came to TV--a favorite target of actors. Before either of his films, he appeared in the Home Box Office presentation “The Far Pavilions” and in the “Princess Daisy” miniseries.

He described his taste in film and television in general as “very ordinary. I’m just impressed so much by those big commercial films like ‘Indiana Jones’ and ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark.’ They are works of sheer genius.”

He’s had no offers yet to be in such a film. His next project is still in the planning stages, he said, describing it only as “a sort of modern type of 1930s farce.”