The man who will be king

I GET THE FIRST inkling that this is not going to be an easy interview when Russell Wong emerges, puffy-eyed, from the Ritz-Carlton lift and looks at me like I'm something he just scraped off his shoe. Well, hey, I think, no problem. I'm thick-skinned and it is 8.30am on a chilly, monsoon-scoured morning. Who wouldn't rather be somewhere else?

We sit down amid a smattering of grey suits, to a chorus of harrumphs and rustling newspapers, in a coffee shop dominated by two huge towers of fake fruit. It looks like Carmen Miranda has just left the building. One of three - count 'em - minders announces loudly that we will be talking about The Monkey King, Hallmark Entertainment's new production of the ancient Chinese legend, starring Wong as the hirsute simian monarch. 'Oh, and you may also like to talk about Russell's hobby, photography,' she adds graciously.

I turn to Wong, who is doing an excellent impersonation of a man who wishes he was still curled up in bed. Right then. Monkey. 'Time and elemental forces worked upon a certain rock,' I solemnly intone, doing my best impression of the old Japanese series that plumbed never-surpassed depths of bad dubbing and achieved instant cult status as after-school viewing in Britain and Australasia. 'From it sprang a stone monkey. The nature of monkey was . . . irrepressible!'

Wong stares at me, bemused. 'Tripitaka?' I venture. 'Pigsy? You want to fight me, do you?'

It's no use.

'I guess we didn't get that one in the States,' he mutters.