![]() The suit cites, among other things, that under TMG’s watch Depp’s sister Christi was given $7 million and his assistant, Nathan Holmes, $750,000, without his knowledge, and that he has paid the IRS more than $5.6 million in late fees. He’s suing The Management Group, run by his longtime business manager, Joel Mandel, and his brother Robert for negligence, breach of fiduciary duty and fraud. It’s estimated that Depp has made $650 million on films that netted $3.6 billion. It had taken a month and almost 200 e-mails for the message to become clear: Come to London Johnny Depp wants to bare his soul about his empty bank accounts. Depp sits at the head of the table and motions toward some rolling papers and two equal piles of tobacco and hash, and asks if I mind. We move to the dining room for a three-course meal of pad thai, duck and gingerbread with berries. “So are you here to hear the truth?” asks Depp as Russell brings him a glass of vintage red wine. This isn’t a coincidence, since Depp has long built his life by imitating his legends – buying an island like Brando, becoming an expert on quaaludes like Hunter S. Now, Depp’s studious leer is reminiscent of late-era Marlon Brando. His face is puffy, but Depp still possesses the fixating brown eyes that have toggled between dreamy and menacing during his 35-year career. Depp is dressed like a Forties gangster, jet-black hair slicked back, pinstripes, suspenders and spats. Trailing behind is his lawyer Adam Waldman. You are lost and gone forever, my darling Clementine.”ĭepp has come from a photo shoot for the Hollywood Vampires, his sometime band that features Alice Cooper and Joe Perry. He is in the living room, crooning his entrance: “Oh, my darling, oh, my darling, my darling Clementine. And he is here in a half-done painting upstairs that features a burning black house, a child Johnny and an angry woman who resembles his mother, Betty Sue.Īnd then he is actually here. He is here in the never-ending reservoir of wine that is poured into goblets. He is here in the stogie-size joint left by the sink in the guest bathroom. He is here in the busy hands of Russell, his personal chef working up the Peking duck. Still, his presence is all around the 10,500-square-foot rented mansion at 16 Bishopswood Road in London’s Highgate neighborhood.
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