I meant to update with this early, but the new design got my attention completely. It’s almost finished, so I think I’ll be able to have it up next week.

In the meantime, here’s another old interview of Nicollette, Men’s Edge from May 2005. It brings great memories back from when the show started.

You can see the scans here.

THE TEMPTRESS OF WISTERIA LANE
Desperate Housewives‘ residen man-eater gives Men’s Edge a mouthful.
By A.D. Amorosi

Within the pop-cultural pantheon of nasty, nighttime soap operas, Nicollette Sheridan is the genre’s Scarlett O’Hara – aprickly, manipulative queen bee whose rule of the neighborhood is iron-fisted, even when she’s at her dewiest. On the Texas-sized cul-de-sac of Knots Landing, Sheridan’s character, Paige Matheson, always semed more duplicitous in her weepiness than she let on. She was the quintessential kittenish wife of the ’70s and ’80s (shoulder pads, high hair), but it always seemed as if there was a whip and a scratching post just off camera, well within her french-manicured grasp.

Perhaps that’s why Sheridan has taken so zealously to Edie Britt, her sex-siren, man-chomping character on Desperate Housewives.

Poisonously penned and conceived by Marc Cherry, Housewives instantly became the poor woman’s Sex and the City after its debut last year, with the deceptively plain, day-to-day existence of its stars – Sheridan, Teri Hatcher, Marcia Cross, Eva Longoria and Felicity Huffman – replacing the languorous glamour of Sarah Jessica Parker and crew. Anyone who couldn’t relate to the haughty haute couture-ishness of Darren Star’s world could certainly pick up on the ritual bitchiness, sexual folly and critical dysfunction that this suburb’s carpools, hyper teens and tiny-minded man-children offer. Yet somehow, DH manages to come off as far more exotic than its metropilitan counterpart. Quick ejaculations and emasculations, affairs with hunky plumber neighbors, abstinence clubs, arson and mysterious boxes are all part of the chewed-upon scenery. In fact, more often than not, Desperate comes off like Twin Peaks albeit without backwards-talking midgets, or American Beauty with muscles.

No distaff denizen of Wisteria Lane is guiltier and more zealousy reckless than Sheridan. In her role as Edie, the bombshell-ish beauty (34B-24-35, says Celebrity Sleuth) combines the physical flirtiness of a teenager and the catty wiles of Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Wolf?‘s Martha. That dirty-girl aura has not only made her – and the show – a hit with network viewers and Golden Globes nominators, but with football fans too. Scandal junkies will no doubt recall Sheridan’s post-Nipplegate Monday Night Football promo, in which she attempted to lure Philadelphia Eagles wide receiver Terrell Owens away from the game by dropping her towel in his locker room and offering another type of face-off.

No less revealing in her Men’s Edge interview, Sheridan held forth on an array of topics.

I was surprised to learn that you’re originally from England – you don’t have an accent.
Not true. It comes out every once in a while. You’ll hear it in words like “broom”. When I’m angry, it flies out.

If I were to puss you off, what’s the first Brit-ism that’d come out?
“Cheeky” comes to mind. I don’t actually run up the apples and pears. It’s never been that bad. I got out of London because my stepfather (Note: That’d be Telly Savalas, baby) was starting a little television series called Kojak. So we had to move to Los Angeles.

What was the transition like?
It was interesting being educated on both sides of the Atlantic; a real culture shock when it came to how loose and badly behaved the children were (laughs).

What was the first bad influence you picked up from the heathen Americans?
I got snagged swearing to myself in the garden, practicing these ugly words. My mom caught me. It wasn’t pretty.

So why act when you could’ve just kept swearing?
I’ve always been a bit of ham. But ballet was a tottal love of mine, I was totally dedicated. When I came to Los Angeles, my stepfather drummed into me that I should never get involved in this business. And I really wasn’t interested. I was scholastic, very much a tomboy, and very much wanted to be a lawyer.

So you rolled like a dude, as they say?
Being what I think was a bit of an overachiever, I didn’t like the categories – “girl stuff,” “boy stuff.” I blurred those lines. I could beat both boys and men at just about anything.

That definitely puts a new light on the man-eaters you’ve portrayed on screen. Do you still apply that physicality in your present endeavors?
I do indeed. Still ride motorcycles. Still go skiing.

How did you get to Knots Landing?
The producers wanted to meet me. But I had no interest, what with it being a “soap opera”. Then I watched it and saw that people like Julie Harris – an actress from whom I have the greatest respect and admiration – were doing it. Who was I to not be interested? First audition, and I got the job on the spot. They hired me as the vixen, but I quite quickly became the heroine. They made Paige into a role model for women . ran a business, dressed well, was respected. And, most importantly, was breakable.

At the same time, your private life was under the microscope. (Sheridan was once married to actor Harry Hamlin, and has dated both Michael Bolton and Leif Garrett.)
I just wanted to go to work, come home and disappear – be normal. I couldn’t integrate publicity and celebrity with my real life. It made me so uncomfortable. This time around, I can have fun with it. I’m riding the wave of doing everything I can to help the show. Being older and wiser now (laughs), I can embrace it.

Does that attitude also apply to the Monday Night Football promo flap? You certainly embraced it – seemed empowered by it and your own sexuality. I saw it as being as much about you as it was your characters.
(sternly) I don’t think so. It was just lines on a page – a spoof of a nighttime soap, a funny, bad-acting, silly recap of Edie’s house burning down with an eagle there to help me. It was one of those pop-cultural instances that got so blown out of proportion that it ended up taking precedence over all major underlying world problems. That was absurd.

Wow; you did that all in one breath. Let’s jump back. Would you say your role in Knots was the total opposite from Edie in Desperate Housewives?
Definitely, yes. But there are some [common] characteristics. She’s straightforward, smart, juggles issues, comes on strong. Edie’s in a difficult place – the odd man out. She’d like all the women of Wisteria to like her, but she knows she’ll never fit it. But as the show goes on, you’ll see how multi-layered she is.

How did you come to land the role of Edie, rather than one of the show’s other characters?
I was [originally] asked to do Bree – the Marcia Corss character. But (long pause) Bree was an interesting-but-neurotic nightmare of a person; a walking implosion. I didn’t like her. And I knew somehow that, not only was this script so good that it would get picked up, it would last for years. I just couldn’t stand the thought of myself playing that character for seven years. And I did a great reading. So one day, I was wearing this very Bree suit, but a very provocative plunging neck line.

Subconsciously, you were sabotaging yourself away from Bree?
Exactly. The director saw how physical and comedic I could be. Then I unbuttoned my jacket and he saw how unafraid I was of my physicality. I came in auditioning for a wrapped-tight mother of two and left as a slut. Slam-dunk.

I’m guessing you’re closest with Teri Hatcher, since you share so many scenes together. Is there any change at all in that dynamic since she’s been singled out of individual achievements? Aren’t you pissed off?
I do have all those scenes with her. I’m so mean to her, though, I have to apologize after each one. As for awards, it’s been an incredible year for everyone. The nominations are the real accolades.

It’s amazing that a show that revolves around being middle-aged has become such a hit in a world that’s supposedly geared toward youth.
Everybody gets more interesting when they get older. There’s more material about a 40-year-old than there is a 16-year-old. Besides, being 40 is like being 20 was 10 years ago. It’s like being 20 trapped in a 40-year-old body. And not a bad one, I may add.

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