Putin welcomes tax exile Depardieu with open arms

Putin has offered Gérard Depardieu an escape route from Hollande's 75 per cent tax by granting him Russian nationality.

Vladimir Putin  has today signed a decree that grants Russian citizenship to French film veteran Gérard Depardieu. 

This is the latest development in the brouhaha surrounding the actor's very public opposition to François Hollande's proposed 75 per cent tax on those earning over 1m euros. The proposal was rejected by the French Constitutional Court on Sunday on the grounds it is unfair as it will be applied only to individuals. The President insists that he will push through a revised version of the measure. 

Depardieu expressed his intention to give up his French nationality in an open letter to to French PM Jean-Marc Ayrault, who had previously described the actor as "pathetic" and "unpatriotic".

According to France's civil code, which rules that a person cannot be stateless, Putin's offer of a passport will allow Depardieu to give up his French nationality. His earnings will now be subject to Russian tax, which is fixed at 13 per cent. 

The actor has a warm relationship with the Russian leader, who had  already declared two weeks ago that “If Gérard wants a Russian passport, it is a done deal”. Meanwhile, last week Depardieu was heard in his Parisian restaurant boasting, “Putin has already sent me a passport.”

Depardieu also has close ties with Chechnya's  controversial President Ramzan Kadyrof, who has been accused by human rights groups of persecuting his critics, among other offences. The actor was filmed at Kadyrif's birthday party in October 2012 making a rousing speech in which he cried “Glory to Ramzan Kadryof”. He is well-known in Russia, appearing in television campaigns for a grocery chain, Sovietski bank and a brand of ketchup.

He has recently purchased a home in the Belgian border town of Néchin, where he now officially resides. Almost a third of the town's inhabitants are French, and it is well-known as a tax avoidancpied à terre for France's high-earners. Depardieu reportedly still spends much of his time in Paris.

Vladimir Putin has offered Gérard Depardieu an escape route from higher taxes (Getty Images)
Ben Whishaw as Hamlet by Derry Moore, 2004 © Derry Moore
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The art of coming out: how the National Portrait Gallery depicts the big reveal

Portraits of gay celebrities, politicians and sports stars line the walls in a new exhibition called Speak Its Name!, marking 50 years of advances in gay rights.

I have a million questions for the doctor friend I’ve brought with me to the National Portrait Gallery. A million questions that, if I really think about it, boil down to: “Why were the Tudors so godforsakenly ugly?”

Inbreeding? Lead makeup? An all-peacock diet?

I don’t know why I assume she’ll know. She’s a neonatologist, not a historian. But I’m desperate for some of the science behind why these 500-year-old royals look, if these imposing paintings of them are anything to go by, like the sorts of creatures that – having spent millennia in pitch black caves – have evolved into off-white, scrotal blobs.

My friend talks about the importance of clean drinking water and the invention of hygiene. We move onto an extremely highbrow game I’ve invented, where – in rooms lined with paintings of bug-eyed, raw sausage-skinned men – we have to choose which one we’d bang. The fact we’re both gay women lends us a certain amount of objectivity, I think.


Alexander McQueen and Isabella Blow by David LaChapelle, 1996 © David LaChapelle Courtesy Fred Torres Collaborations

Our gayness, weirdly, is also the reason we’re at the gallery in the first place. We’re here to see the NPG’s Speak its Name! display; photographic portraits of a selection of out-and-proud celebrities, accompanied by inspirational quotes about coming out as gay or bi. The kind of thing irritating people share on Facebook as a substitute for having an opinion.

Managing to tear ourselves away from walls and walls of TILFs (Tudors I’d… you know the rest), we arrive at the recently more Angela Eagle-ish part of the gallery. Eagle, the second ever British MP to come out as lesbian, occupies a wall in the NPG, along with Will Young, Tom Daley, Jackie Kay, Ben Whishaw, Saffron Burrows and Alexander McQueen.

Speak its Name!, referring to what was described by Oscar Wilde’s lover Lord Alfred Douglas as “the love that dare not speak its name”, commemorates 50 years (in 2017) since the partial decriminalisation of male homosexuality in England and Wales.

“Exhibition” is maybe a grandiose term for a little queer wall in an old building full, for the most part, of paintings of probably bigoted straight white guys who are turning like skeletal rotisserie chickens in their graves at the thought of their portraits inhabiting the same space as known homosexual diver Tom Daley.


Tom Daley By Bettina von Zwehl, 2010 © Bettina von Zwehl

When you’re gay, or LBTQ, you make little pilgrimages to “exhibitions” like this. You probably don’t expect anything mind-blowing or world-changing, but you appreciate the effort. Unless you’re one of those “fuck The Establishment and literally everything to do with it” queers. In which case, fair. Don’t come to this exhibition. You’ll hate it. But you probably know that already.

But I think I like having Tudors and known homosexuals in the same hallowed space. Of course, Angela Eagle et al aren’t the NPG’s first queer inhabitants. Being non-hetero, you see, isn’t a modern invention. From David Hockney to Radclyffe Hall, the NPG’s collection is not entirely devoid of Gay. But sometimes context is important. Albeit one rather tiny wall dedicated to the bravery of coming out is – I hate to say it – sort of heart-warming.


Angela Eagle by Victoria Carew Hunt, 1998 © Victoria Carew Hunt / National Portrait Gallery, London

Plus, look at Eagle up there on the “yay for gay” wall. All smiley like that whole “running for Labour leader and getting called a treacherous dyke by zealots” thing never happened.

I can’t say I feel particularly inspired. The quotes are mostly the usual “coming out was scary”-type fare, which people like me have read, lived and continue to live almost every day. This is all quite mundane to queers, but you can pretty much guarantee that some straight visitors to the NPG will be scandalised by Speak its Name! And I guess that’s the whole point.

Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.