SETTE: You’re still widely seen as a sex symbol at 75. What’s your take on that?

Richard Gere: That has nothing to do with me. People have strange ideas about actors. They assign us images and labels. But we’re not cardboard cutouts—we live normal lives. We have families, we worry about mortgages, we deal with fears and jealousy. We’re human, believe it or not. And honestly, I’m a bit too old to be anyone’s idea of a sex symbol.

In your latest film Oh Canada, which premiered this year, you play a dying man—a character reportedly inspired by your father, who passed away last year.

That’s right. My son saw the film and said, “You’re channeling Grandpa’s spirit.”

What do you remember most about him?

He wasn’t a man of many words, but he felt everything deeply. He grew up on a farm, milking cows. He was smart, but never went into an intellectual career—he became an insurance agent. And his intelligence came through in how he dealt with people. He was incredibly social. He loved people, just like he loved animals.

Are you like him?

Not naturally. I had to grow into it. Only now do I realize how much he shaped me.

How did he face death?

He wasn’t afraid of it. His only real fear was becoming irrelevant in old age. So after retiring, he kept working—Meals on Wheels, school programs. When COVID hit, that all stopped. And suddenly, his life lost meaning. It was very hard for him.

If you had to look back from your deathbed, what do you think you’d consider your greatest accomplishment—your career or your children?

I’ve had a dream job. It’s given me so much. But I’m not going to be lying there thinking about my movies. I’ll be thinking about my wife, my kids, my friends—anyone I loved and anyone who loved me back. That’s what stays.

Your son Homer, 24, is now going into acting. What do you make of that?

He’s still figuring it out. He just finished college, and he’s dipping into acting, doing student films. He says it puts him in flow—that he feels connected to the best part of himself. That’s a wonderful thing.

You’re not telling him to do something more “serious,” like become a lawyer or doctor?

Not at all. And to be honest, if he were bad at acting, I’d be thrilled to say, “Try something else.” But the truth is, he’s really good.

How did you guide him through that tricky period of growing up?

I remember what it was like to be a teenager. Your brain changes, your emotions go wild. I told him and his friends: “This is a time to explore and take risks. But you also need control. You need to know where the edge is—and when you’re getting too close.”

Did he ever cross that line?

A few times he came close, but he always pulled himself back. He’s got good instincts.

When he was younger, did you show him your movies?

Most of my films weren’t kid-friendly. But we did watch First Knight—horses, action, good people. That one worked.

You die in a lot of your movies. Have you thought much about death outside of your father’s passing?

Every day. I’ve spoken to a lot of doctors about it. Everyone has a different take. There’s a meditation technique where you visualize your own death. I practice that regularly. It helps dissolve the ego, that sense of being a solid, separate self. It’s liberating.

As a Buddhist, do you believe in reincarnation?

Think of it like this: Imagine two glasses on the table. It’s not that “Richard” moves from one glass to another. The first glass shatters, and the water flows on. The idea of “Richard Gere” is just that—an idea. It dissolves.

How does your wife feel about that perspective?

She understands it. We all exist like light—intangible, only visible when reflected. We’re concepts, in a way.

Given your age difference, have you discussed the likelihood that you might pass before her?

There are no guarantees. She reminds me of that. Statistically, she might outlive me, but who knows? In 50 or 100 years, neither of us will be here. That’s a fact. We accept it.

How have your spiritual beliefs influenced your relationship?

They’ve taught me not to build walls between myself and others. Many people shield themselves, but as I’ve aged, I’ve realized that being vulnerable makes me feel most alive. It’s about being authentic and comfortable in your own skin.

You’ve had significant relationships before. Have you gained insights into understanding women?

Let me share a joke I heard: A man walks along the beach, depressed because his life is in shambles. Suddenly, he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a stranger.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’m God, and I’ll grant you one wish,” the stranger replies.

“I’d like to visit Hawaii, but I’m afraid of flying. Could you build a bridge for me?”

God responds, “That’s possible, but think of the environmental impact. Do you have another wish?”

The man thinks and says, “Help me understand women.”

God replies, “How many lanes would you like on that bridge?”

So, no insights?

Exactly.

Yet, you’re affectionate with your wife in public. Why?

I know she feels vulnerable in those moments. Despite the cameras and crowds, she’s a human being beside me. Her feelings matter more than media perceptions.

Do you think women are our future?

The ancient Greeks thought so. In Lysistrata, women end wars by withholding sex. Even the Dalai Lama has expressed a desire for more female leaders, believing they’d foster empathy and understanding. Women tend to be nurturing and realistic.

In your household, who’s in charge?

My world is run by women. If we, as men, want peace, we need to ensure our women feel happy and fulfilled. That can transform our planet.

Can love die?

No, love itself is eternal. It endures.

– Interview by Rüdiger Sturm; Main Photo by Andreas Rentz