THE AFTERNOON LIGHT WASHES over Geoffrey Rush's frame as one by one Hollywood suits approach him in the posh Los Angeles hotel to press the flesh and invite him to dinner. In the lobby, a gaggle of journalists wait to interview him. After more than 20 years of struggling as a stage actor from Australia, Rush is watching his world change, albeit not quite overnight. Before he goes to bed, "I'm still rinsing my shirts in the hotel bathroom," says Rush, 45, with a giggle. "I can't afford $15 for a shirt to be laundered. I have three shirts. If I do my own, I can afford to talk to my wife long distance for another half an hour."

Though the movie world has yet to show Rush the money, it has spent high praise on his star turn in Shine. His portrayal of Australian pianist David Helfgott's journey from child genius to emotional wreck won him a Golden Globe for best dramatic actor, awards from the New York City and L.A. film critics and, best of all, an Oscar nomination. "If you had told me five years ago that I would be in Los Angeles, here, doing this," he says of his sudden celebrity, "I would never have believed it."

"Here" is a far cry from the bleak farming community of Toowoomba, Australia (62 miles west of Brisbane), where Rush grew up, the only son of Merle, a department store clerk, and Roy, an accountant, both 70. The two split when Rush was 5, and he went with his mother and older sister Roseanne to live with his maternal grandparents in the suburbs. In high school, Rush says, he was "a weedy kid" who dreaded gym but saw "magic" in the theater. Still, he says, he "never dreamed of acting for a living."

But as an English student at the University of Queensland, he fell in with a troupe that staged protest plays against the Vietnam War. After graduating in 1971, he joined a repertory theater in Brisbane and, at a salary of $65 a week, found himself playing Snoopy in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. "One of my first big hits," he says. "I was a very good dog."

In 1980, Rush landed a role in a Queensland production of Waiting for Godot—opposite Mel Gibson. "He was 22 and had just finished Mad Max," Rush recalls. "We were roommates for four months. There was no furniture." They also had a crush on the same woman, an aspiring actress. "I won," Rush titters with satisfaction. "Of course, I went on to a low-paying life in theater, and he went on to become a sex symbol."

It was onstage in Adelaide in 1986 that Rush met the love of his life. He was cast opposite Jane Menelaus, now 37, in a domestic drama, Benefactors, that "wasn't my cup of tea," he says. At first, the costars did not get along. "I thought he was pompous and self-obsessed," Menelaus recalls. "We were playing husband and wife, and the director thought there wasn't enough affection between us, so he said, 'Geoffrey, I want you to let Jane put her arms around you.' " But as she reached out, says Menelaus, "he bent over to pick up a towel on the floor instead." Offstage, though, the chill thawed quickly. Six months later he moved in with her; in 1988 they were wed. Jane later retired from the stage to raise their children, Angelica, 4, and James, 1.

Rush's career almost came to a premature end five years ago, when he suffered a breakdown. Exhausted by a grueling schedule of performances, Rush one night was suddenly stricken with anxiety in the middle of The Importance of Being Ernest. "I literally walked off [stage]," he says. Before another show two weeks later the cast, he says, found him "down on all fours, barking mad." The breakdown left him unable to work for two months. He tried therapy, yoga and meditation and finally was able to conquer his depression on his own.

The crisis gave Rush insight into his role as Helfgott, 49, who, plagued as a youth with a domineering father and an obsessive drive for musical perfection, suffered a nervous breakdown that halted his concert career. Helfgott was in and out of mental institutions and halfway houses for nearly a decade. To get a feel for Helfgott's emotional extremes (he's prone to hug perfect strangers) and rapid-fire speech, Rush met with Helfgott several times. "We would sit at the keyboard because that is where he is really comfortable," says Rush. The pianist's wife, Gillian, credits Rush's performance with the sudden increase in Helfgott's bookings in the States and Europe: "People stop us in the street, theaters, airports to tell us how they have been moved by the film."

The same can be said for Rush, who has entertained comedy and drama film offers in recent months. "Making a good living is a very exciting possibility," he says. Someday he may even be able to afford to send out his shirts.

CALVIN BAKER
VICKI SHEFF-CAHAN in Los Angeles

  • Contributors:
  • Vicki Sheff-Cahan.
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